.1BRARY 

MIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 

JAN  DIEGO 


W.  H.  H.  MURRAY, 
THE  MURRAY  HOMESTEAD,     GUILFORD,  CONN. 


HOLIDAY  TALES. 


CHRISTMAS  IN  THE  ADIRONDACKS. 


W.  H.  H.  MURRAY. 


COPYRIGHT,  1897, 

BY  W.  H.  H.  MURRAY. 

ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED. 


PRESS   OF 

SFK1NGF1HLD   PRINTING   AND   BINDING  COMPANY, 
SPRINGFIELD,    MASS. 


CONTENTS. 


I. 

PAGE 

How  JOHN  NORTON  THE  TRAPPER  KEPT  His  CHRISTMAS,      11 


II. 
JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND, ....     77 


HOW  JOHN   NORTON  THE  TRAPPER  KEPT 
HIS  CHRISTMAS. 


HOW  JOHN   NORTON   THE  TRAPPER   KEPT 
HIS  CHRISTMAS. 


I. 

A  CABIN.  A  cabin  in  the  woods.  In  the  cabin  a  great  fire 
place  piled  high  with  logs,  fiercely  ablaze.  On  either  side  of  the 
broad  hearthstone  a  hound  sat  on  his  haunches,  looking  gravely, 
as  only  a  hound  in  a  meditative  mood  can,  into  the  glowing 
fire.  In  the  center  of  the  cabin,  whose  every  nook  and  corner 
was  bright  with  the  ruddy  firelight,  stood  a  wooden  table, 
strongly  built  and  solid.  At  the  table  sat  John  Norton,  poring 
over  a  book,  —  a  book  large  of  size,  with  wooden  covers  bound 
in  leather,  brown  with  age,  and  smooth  as  with  the  handling  of 
many  generations.  The  whitened  head  of  the  old  man  was 
bowed  over  the  broad  page,  on  which  one  hand  rested,  with  the 
forefinger  marking  the  sentence.  A  cabin  in  the  woods  filled 
with  firelight,  a  table,  a  book,  an  old  man  studying  the  book. 
This  was  the  scene  on  Christmas  Eve.  Outside,  the  earth  was 
white  with  snow,  and  in  the  blue  sky  above  the  snow  was  the 
white  moon. 

"It  says  here,"  said  the  Trapper,  speaking  to  himself,  "it 
says  here,  '  Give  to  him  that  lacketh,  and  from  him  that  hath  not, 
withhold  not  thine  hand.'  It  be  a  good  sayin'  fur  sartin  ;  and 


12  JOHN   NORTON'S   CHRISTMAS. 

the  world  would  be  a  good  deal  better  off,  as  I  conceit,  ef  the 
folks  follered  the  say  in'  a  leetle  more  closely."  And  here  the 
old  man  paused  a  moment,  and,  with  his  hand  still  resting  on 
the  page,  and  his  forefinger  still  pointing  at  the  sentence,  seemed 
pondering  what  he  had  been  reading.  At  last  he  broke  the 
silence  again,  saying  :  — 

"  Yis,  the  world  would  be  a  good  deal  better  off,  ef  the  folks 
in  it  follered  the  sayin' ; "  and  then  he  added,  "  There's  another 
spot  in  the  book  I'd  orter  look  at  to-night ;  it's  a  good  ways 
furder  on,  but  I  guess  I  can  find  it.  Henry  says  the  furder  on 
you  git  in  the  book,  the  better  it  grows,  and  I  conceit  the  boy 
may  be  right ;  for  there  be  a  good  deal  of  murderin'  and  fightin' 
in  the  fore  part  of  the  book,  that  don't  make  pleasant  readin', 
and  what  the  Lord  wanted  to  put  it  in  fur  is  a  good  deal  more 
than  a  man  without  book-larnin'  can  understand.  Murderin'  be 
murderin',  whether  it  be  in  the  Bible  or  out  of  the  Bible  ;  and 
puttin'  it  in  the  Bible,  and  sayin'  it  was  done  by  the  Lord's  com 
mandment,  don't  make  it  any  better.  And  a  good  deal  of  the 
fightin'  they  did  in  the  old  time  was  sartinly  without  reason 
and  ag'in  jedgment,  specially  where  they  killed  the  women 
folks  and  the  leetle  uns."  And  while  the  old  man  had  thus 
been  communicating  with  himself,  touching  the  character  of 
the  Old  Testament,  he  had  been  turning  the  leaves  until  he  had 
reached  the  opening  chapters  of  the  New,  and  had  come  to  the 
description  of  the  Saviour's  birth,  and  the  angelic  announcement 
of  it  on  the  earth.  Here  he  paused,  and  began  to  read.  He  read 
as  an  old  man  unaccustomed  to  letters  must  read,  —  slowly  and 


JOHN   NORTON'S   CHRISTMAS.  13 

with  a  show  of  labor,  but  with  perfect  contentment  as  to  his 
progress,  and  a  brightening  face. 

"  This  isn't  a  trail  a  man  can  hurry  on  onless  he  spends  a 
good  deal  of  his  time  on  it,  or  is  careless  about  notin'  the  signs, 
fur  the  words  be  weighty,  and  a  man  must  stop  at  each  word, 
and  look  around  awhile,  in  order  to  git  all  the  meanin'  out  of 
'em  —  yis,  a  man  orter  travel  this  trail  a  leetle  slow,  ef  he  wants 
to  see  all  there  is  to  see  on  it." 

Then  the  old  man  began  to  read  :  — 

" '  Then  there  was  with  the  angels  a  multitude  of  the  heavenly 
host,7 — the  exact  number  isn't  sot  down  here,"  he  muttered; 
"  but  I  conceit  there  may  have  been  three  or  four  hunderd, — 
'praisin'  God  and  singin',  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  and  on 
7arth,  peace  to  men  of  good  ivill.'  That's  right,"  said  the  Trap 
per.  "Yis,  peace  to  men  of  good  will.  That  be  the  sort  that 
desarve  peace  ;  the  other  kind  orter  stand  their  chances."  And 
here  the  old  man  closed  the  book, —  closed  it  slowly,  and  with 
the  care  we  take  of  a  treasured  thing  ;  closed  it,  fastened  the 
clasps,  and  carried  it  to  the  great  chest  whence  he  had  taken 
it,  putting  it  away  in  its  place.  Having  done  this,  he  returned 
to  his  seat,  and,  moving  the  chair  in  front  of  the  fire,  he  looked 
first  at  one  hound,  and  then  at  the  other,  and  said,  "  Pups, 
this  be  Christmas  Eve,  and  I  sartinly  trust  ye  be  grateful  fur 
the  comforts  ye  have." 

He  said  this  deliberately,  as  if  addressing  human  companions. 
The  two  hounds  turned  their  heads  toward  their  master,  looked 
placidly  into  his  face,  and  wagged  their  tails. 


14  JOHN   NORTON'S   CHRISTMAS. 

"Yis,  yis,  I  understand  ye,"  said  the  Trapper.  "Ye  both  be 
comfortable,  and,  I  dare  say,  that  arter  yer  way  ye  both  be  grate 
ful,  fur,  next  to  eatin',  a  dog  loves  the  heat,  and  ye  be  nigh  enough 
to  the  logs  to  be  toastin'.  Yis,  this  be  Christmas  Eve,"  con 
tinued  the  old  man,  "  and  in  the  settlements  the  folks  be  gittin' 
ready  their  gifts.  The  young  people  be  tyin'  up  the  evergreens, 
and  the  leetle  uns  be  onable  to  sleep  because  of  their  dreamin'. 
It's  a  pleasant  pictur',  and  I  sartinly  wish  I  could  see  the  merry 
making,  as  Henry  has  told  me  of  them,  sometime,  but  I  trust 
it  may  be  in  his  own  house,  and  with  his  own  children."  With 
this  pleasant  remark,  in  respect  to  the  one  he  loved  so  well,  the 
old  man  lapsed  into  silence.  But  the  peaceful  contentment  of  his 
face,  as  the  firelight  revealed  it,  showed  plainly  that,  though  his 
lips  moved  not,  his  mind  was  still  active  with  pleasant  thoughts 
of  the  one  whose  name  he  had  mentioned,  and  whom  he  so  fondly 
loved.  At  last  a  more  sober  look  came  to  his  countenance, —  a 
look  of  regret,  of  self-reproach,  the  look  of  a  man  who  remem 
bers  something  he  should  not  have  forgotten, — and  he  said:  — 

"  I  ax  the  Lord  to  pardin  me,  that  in  the  midst  of  my  plenty 
I  have  forgot  them  that  may  be  in  want.  The  shanty  sar 
tinly  looked  open  enough  the  last  time  I  fetched  the  trail  past 
the  clearin',  and  though  with  the  help  of  the  moss  and  the  clay 
in  the  bank  she  might  make  it  comfortable,  yit,  ef  the  vaga 
bond  that  be  her  husband  has  forgot  his  own,  and  desarted 
them,  as  Wild  Bill  said  he  had,  I  doubt  ef  there  be  vict'als 
enough  in  the  shanty  to  keep  them  from  starvin'.  Yis,  pups," 
said  the  old  man,  rising,  "it'll  be  a  good  tramp  through  the 


JOHN   NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS.  15 

snow,  but  we'll  go  in  the  mornin',  and  see  ef  the  woman  be  in 
want.  The  boy  himself  said,  when  he  stopped  at  the  shanty 
last  summer,  afore  he  went  out,  that  he  didn't  see  how  they 
was  to  git  through  the  winter,  and  I  reckon  he  left  the  woman 
some  money,  by  the  way  she  follered  him  toward  the  boat ;  and 
he  told  me  to  bear  them  in  mind  when  the  snow  came,  and  see 
to  it  they  didn't  suffer.  I  might  as  well  git  the  pack-basket 
out,  and  begin  to  put  the  things  in't,  fur  it  be  a  goodly  dis 
tance,  and  an  'arly  start  will  make  the  day  pleasant  to  the 
woman  and  the  leetle  uns,  ef  vict'als  be  scant  in  the  cupboard. 
Yis,  I'll  git  the  pack-basket  out,  and  look  round  a  leetle,  and 
see  what  I  can  find  to  take  'em.  I  don't  conceit  it'll  make 
much  of  a  show,  fur  what  might  be  good  fur  a  man  won't  be 
of  sarvice  to  a  woman  ;  and  as  fur  the  leetle  uns,  I  don't  know 
ef  I've  got  a  single  thing  but  vict'als  that'll  fit  'em.  Lord  !  ef 
I  was  near  the  settlements,  I  might  swap  a  dozen  skins  fur  jest 
what  I  wanted  to  give  'em ;  but  I'll  git  the  basket  out,  and  look 
round  and  see  what  I've  got." 

In  a  moment  the  great  pack-basket  had  been  placed  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor,  and  the  Trapper  was  busy  overhauling  his 
stores  to  see  what  he  could  find  that  would  make  a  fitting 
Christmas  gift  for  those  he  was  to  visit  on  the  morrow.  A  can 
ister  of  tea  was  first  deposited  on  the  table,  and,  after  he  had 
smelled  of  it,  and  placed  a  few  grains  of  it  on  his  tongue,  like 
a  connoisseur,  he  proceeded  to  pour  more  than  half  of  its  con 
tents  into  a  little  bark  box,  and,  having  carefully  tied  the  cover, 
he  placed  it  in  the  basket. 


16  JOHN   NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS. 

"  The  yarb  be  of  the  best,"  said  the  old  man,  putting  his 
nose  to  the  mouth  of  the  canister,  and  taking  a  long  sniff 
before  he  inserted  the  stopple — "the  yarb  be  of  the  best,  fur 
the  smell  of  it  goes  into  the  nose  strong  as  mustard.  That 
be  good  fur  the  woman  fur  sartin,  and  will  cheer  her  sperits 
when  she  be  downhearted ;  fur  a  woman  takes  as  naterally  to 
tea  as  an  otter  to  his  slide,  and  I  warrant  it'll  be  an  amazin' 
comfort  to  her,  arter  the  day's  work  be  over,  more  specially  ef 
the  work  had  been  heavy,  and  gone  sorter  crosswise.  Yis,  the 
yarb  be  good  fur  a  woman  when  things  go  crosswise,  and  the 
box'll  be  a  great  help  to  her  many  and  many  a  night,  beyend 
doubt.  The  Lord  sartinly  had  women  in  mind  when  He  made 
the  yarb,  and  a  kindly  feelin'  fur  their  infarmities,  and,  I  dare 
say,  they  be  grateful  accordin'  to  their  knowledge." 

A  large  cake  of  maple  sugar  followed  the  tea  into  the  basket, 
and  a  small  chest  of  honey  accompanied  it. 

"That's  honest  sweetening"  remarked  the  Trapper  with  de 
cided  emphasis ;  "  and  that  is  more'n  ye  can  say  of  the  sugar 
of  the  settlements,  leastwise  ef  a  man  can  jedge  by  the  stuff 
they  peddle  at  the  clearin'.  The  bees  be  no  cheats ;  and  a  man 
who  taps  his  own  trees,  and  biles  the  runnin'  into  sugar  under 
his  own  eye,  knows  what  kind  of  sweetenin'  he's  gittin'.  The 
woman  won't  find  any  sand  in  her  teeth  when  she  takes  a  bite 
from  that  loaf,  or  stirs  a  leetle  of  the  honey  in  the  cup  she's 
steepin'." 

Some  salt  and  pepper  were  next  added  to  the  packages  al 
ready  in  the  basket.  A  sack  of  flour  and  another  of  Indian 


JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS.  17 

meal  followed.  A  generous  round  of  pork,  and  a  bag  of  jerked 
venison,  that  would  balance  a  twenty-pound  weight,  at  least, 
went  into  the  pack.  On  these,  several  large-sized  salmon  trout, 
that  had  been  smoked  by  the  Trapper's  best  skill,  were  laid. 
These  offerings  evidently  exhausted  the  old  man's  resources,  for, 
after  looking  round  a  while,  and  searching  the  cupboard  from 
bottom  to  top,  he  returned  to  the  basket,  and  contemplated  it 
with  satisfaction,  indeed,  yet  with  a  face  slightly  shaded  with 
disappointment. 

"The  vict'als  be  all  right,"  he  said,  "fur  there  be  enough  to 
last  'em  a  month,  and  they  needn't  scrimp  themselves  either. 
But  eatin'  isn't  all,  and  the  leetle  uns  was  nigh  on  to  naked  the 
last  time  I  seed  'em ;  and  the  woman's  dress,  in  spite  of  the 
patchin',  looked  as  ef  it  would  desart  her,  ef  she  didn't  keep  a 
close  eye  oirt.  Lord  !  Lord!  what  shall  I  do  ?  fur  there's  room 
enough  in  the  basket,  and  the  woman  and  the  leetle  uns  need 
garments  ;  that  is,  it's  more'n  likely  they  do,  and  I  haven't  a 
garment  in  the  cabin  to  take  'em." 

"  Hillo  !  Hillo  !  John  Norton  !  John  Norton  !  Hillo  ! "  The 
•voice  came  sharp  and  clear,  cutting  keenly  through  the  frosty 
air  and  the  cabin  walls.  "John  Norton  !" 

"Wild  Bill!"  exclaimed  the  Trapper.  "I  sartinly  hope  the 
vagabond  hasn't  been  a-drinkin'.  His  voice  sounds  as  ef  he 
was  sober  ;  but  the  chances  be  ag'in  the  signs,  fur,  ef  he  isn't 
drunk,  the  marcy  of  the  Lord  or  the  scarcity  of  liquor  has  kept 
him  from  it.  I'll  go  to  the  door,  and  see  what  he  wants.  It's 
sartinly  too  cold  to  let  a  man  stand  in  the  holler  long,  whether 

2 


18  JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS. 

he  be  sober  or  drunk  ; "  with  which  remark  the  Trapper  stepped 
to  the  door,  and  flung  it  open. 

"What  is  it,  Wild  Bill?  what  is  it?"  he  called.  "Be  ye 
drunk,  or  be  ye  sober,  that  ye  stand  there  shoutin'  in  the  cold 
with  a  log  cabin  within  a  dozen  rods  of  ye  ? " 

'•'Sober,  John  Norton,  sober.  Sober  as  a  Moravian  preacher 
at  a  funeral." 

"Yer  trappin'  must  have  been  mighty  poor,  then,  Wild  Bill, 
for  the  last  month,  or  the  Dutchman  at  the  clearin'  has  watered 
his  liquor  by  a  wrong  measure  for  once.  But  ef  ye  be  sober, 
why  do  ye  stand  there  whoopin'  like  an  Indian,  when  the  am- 
bushment  is  onkivered  and  the  bushes  be  alive  with  the  knaves  ? 
Why  don't  ye  come  into  the  cabin,  like  a  sensible  man,  ef  ye  be 
sober  ?  The  signs  be  ag'in  ye,  Wild  Bill ;  yis,  the  signs  be  ag'in 
ye." 

"Come  into  the  cabin!"  retorted  Bill.  "An'  so  I  would 
mighty  lively,  ef  I  could  ;  but  the  load  is  heavy,  and  your  path 
is  as  slippery  as  the  plank  over  the  creek  at  the  Dutchman's, 
when  I've  two  horns  aboard." 

"  Load !  What  load  have  ye  been  draggin'  through  the 
woods  ?"  exclaimed  the  Trapper.  "Ye  talk  as  ef  my  cabin  was 
the  Dutchman's,  and  ye  was  balancin'  on  the  plank  at  this 
minit." 

"  Come  and  see  for  yourself,"  answered  Wild  Bill,  "  and  give 
me  a  lift.  Once  in  your  cabin,  and  in  front  of  your  fire,  I'll 
answer  all  the  questions  you  may  ask.  But  I'll  answer  no  more 
until  I'm  inside  the  door." 


JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS.  19 

"  Ye  be  sartinly  sober  to-night,"  answered  the  Trapper, 
laughing,  as  he  started  down  the  hill,  ''fur  ye  talk  sense,  and 
that's  more'n  a  man  can  do  when  he  talks  through  the  nozzle 
of  a  bottle. 

"  Lord-a-massy  ! "  exclaimed  the  old  man  as  he  stood  over  the 
sled,  and  saw  the  huge  box  that  was  on  it.  "  Lord-a-massy, 
Bill !  what  a  tug  ye  must  have  had  !  and  how  ye  come  to  be 
sober  with  seen  a  load  behind  ye  is  beyend  the  reckinin'  of  a 
man  who  has  knowed  ye  nigh  on  to  twenty  year.  I  never 
knowed  ye  disapp'int  one  arter  this  fashion  afore." 

"It  is  strange,  I  confess,"  answered  Wild  Bill,  appreciating 
the  humor  that  lurked  in  the  honesty  of  the  old  man's  utter 
ance.  "  It  is  strange,  that's  a  fact,  for  it's  Christmas  Eve,  and 
I  ought  to  be  roaring  drunk  at  the  Dutchman's  this  very  minit, 
according  to  custom ;  but  I  pledged  him  to  get  the  box  through 
jest  as  he  wanted  it  done,  and  that  I  wouldn't  touch  a  drop  of 
liquor  until  I  had  done  it.  And  here  it  is,  according  to  promise, 
for  here  I  am  sober,  and  here  is  the  box." 

"H'ist  along.  Bill,  h'ist  along!"  exclaimed  the  Trapper,  who 
suddenly  became  alive  with  interest,  for  he  surmised  whence 
the  box  had  come.  "H'ist  along,  Bill,  I  say,  and  have  done  with 
yer  talkin',  and  let's  see  what  ye  have  got  on  yer  sled.  It's 
strange  that  a  man  of  yer  sense  will  stand  jibberin'  here  in  the 
snow  with  a  roarin'  fire  within  a  dozen  rods  of  ye." 

Whatever  retort  Wild  Bill  may  have  contemplated,  it  was 
effectually  prevented  by  the  energy  with  which  the  Trapper 
pushed  the  sled  after  him.  Indeed,  it  was  all  he  could  do  to 


20  JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS. 

keep  it  off  his  heels,  so  earnestly  did  the  old  man  propel  it  from 
behind  ;  and  so,  with  many  a  slip  and  scramble  on  the  part  of 
Wild  Bill,  and  a  continued  muttering  on  the  part  of  the  Trap 
per  about  the  "nonsense  of  a  man's  jibberin'  in  the  snow  arter 
a  twenty  mile  drag,  with  a  good  fire  within  a  dozen  rods  of 
him,"  the  sled  was  shot  through  the  doorway  into  the  cabin, 
and  stood  fully  revealed  in  the  bright  blaze  of  the  firelight. 

"Take  off  yer  coat  and  yer  moccasins,  Wild  Bill,"  exclaimed 
the  Trapper,  as  he  closed  the  door,  "  and  git  in  front  of  the 
fire ;  pull  out  the  coals,  and  set  the  tea  pot  a-steepin'.  The  yarb 
will  take  the  chill  out  of  ye  better  than  the  pizen  of  the  Dutch 
man.  Ye'll  find  a  haunch  of  venison  in  the  cupboard  that  I 
roasted  to-day,  and  some  johnnycake ;  I  doubt  ef  either  be 
cold.  Help  yerself,  help  yerself,  Bill,  while  I  take  a  peep  at  the 
box." 

No  one  can  appreciate  the  intensity  of  the  old  man's  feelings 
in  reference  to  the  mysterious  box,  unless  he  calls  to  mind 
the  strictness  with  which  he  was  wont  to  interpret  and  fulfill 
the  duties  of  hospitality.  To  him  the  coming  of  a  guest  was  a 
welcome  event,  and  the  service  which  the  latter  might  require 
of  the  host  both  a  sacred  and  a  pleasant  obligation.  To  serve 
a  guest  with  his  own  hand,  which  he  did  with  a  natural  cour 
tesy  peculiar  to  himself,  was  his  delight.  Nor  did  it  matter 
with  him  what  the  quality  of  the  guest  might  be.  The  wander 
ing  trapper  or  the  vagabond  Indian  was  served  with  as  sincere 
attention  as  the  richest  visitor  from  the  city.  But  now  his 
feelings  were  so  stirred  by  the  sight  of  the  box  thus  strangely 


JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS.  21 

brought  to  him,  and  by  his  surmise  touching  who  the  sender 
might  be,  that  Wild  Bill  was  left  to  help  himself  without  the 
old  man's  attendance. 

It  was  evident  that  Bill  was  equal  to  the  occasion,  and  was 
not  aware  of  the  slightest  neglect.  At  least,  his  actions  were 
not,  by  the  neglect  of  the  Trapper,  rendered  less  decided,  or  the 
quality  of  his  appetite  affected,  for  the  examination  he  made  of 
the  old  man's  cupboard,  and  the  familiarity  with  which  he  han 
dled  the  contents,  made  it  evident  that  he  was  not  in  the  least 
abashed,  or  uncertain  how  to  proceed ;  for  he  attacked  the  pro 
visions  with  the  energy  of  a  man  who  had  fasted  long,  and  who 
has  at  last  not  only  come  suddenly  to  an  ample  supply  of  food, 
but  also  feels  that  for  a  few  moments,  at  least,  he  will  be  un 
observed.  The  Trapper  turned  toward  the  box,  and  approached 
it  for  a  deliberate  examination. 

"The  boards  be  sawed,"  he  said,  "and  they  come  from  the 
mills  of  the  settlement,  for  the  smoothin'-plane  has  been  over 
?em."  Then  he  inspected  the  jointing,  and  noted  how  truly  the 
edges  were  drawn. 

"The  box  has  come  a  goodly  distance,"  he  said,  to  himself, 
"fur  there  isn't  a  workman  this  side  of  the  Horicon  that  could 
j'int  it  in  that  fashion.  There  sartinly  ought  to  be  some  lettering 
or  a  leetle  bit  of  writin',  somewhere  about  the  chest,  tellin' 
who  the  box  belonged  to,  and  to  whom  it  was  sent."  Saying 
this,  the  old  man  unlashed  the  box  from  the  sled,  and  rolled  it 
over,  so  that  the  side  might  come  uppermost.  As  no  direction 
appeared  on  the  smoothly  planed  surface,  he  rolled  it  half  over 


22  JOHN   NORTON'S   CHRISTMAS. 

again.     A  little  white  card  neatly  tacked  to  the   board  was  now 
revealed.     The  Trapper  stooped,  and  on  the  card  read, — 

JOHN  NORTON, 

TO   THE   CARE   OF   WILD    BILL. 

"Yis,  the  *  J'  be  his'n,"  muttered  the  old  man,  as  he  spelled 
out  the  word  J-o-h-n,  "and  the  big  'N'  be  as  plain  as  an  otter- 
trail  in  the  snow.  The  boy  don't  make  his  letters  over  plain,  as 
I  conceit,  but  the  'J'  and  the  'N'  be  his'n."  And  then  he 
paused  for  a  full  minute,  his  head  bowed  over  the  box.  "  The 
boy  don't  forgit,"  he  murmured,  and  he  wiped  his  eyes  with  the 
back  of  his  hand.  "The  boy  don't  forgit."  And  then  he  added, 
"No,  he  isn't  one  of  the  forgittin'  kind.  Wild  Bill,"  said  the 
Trapper,  as  he  turned  toward  that  personage,  whose  attack  on 
the  venison  haunch  was  as  determined  as  ever,  "  Wild  Bill, 
this  box  be  from  Henry  ! " 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  answered  that  individual,  speaking 
from  a  mass  of  edibles  that  filled  his  mouth. 

"  And  it  be  a  Christmas  gift ! "  continued  the  old  man. 

"  It  looks  so,"  returned  Bill,  as  laconically  as  before. 

"And  it  be  a  mighty  heavy  box  !"  said  the  Trapper. 

"  You'd  'a'  thought  so,  if  you  had  dragged  it  over  the  mile- 
and-a-half  carry.  It  was  good  sleddin'  on  the  river,  but  the 
carry  took  the  stuff  out  of  me." 

"Very  like,  very  like,"  responded  the  Trapper;  "fur  the  gul 
lies  be  deep  on  the  carry,  and  it  must  have  been  slippery  haulm'. 


JOHN  NORTON'S  CHRISTMAS.  23 

Didn't  ye  git  a  leetle  'arnest  in  yer  feelin's,  Bill,  afore  ye  got 
to  the  top  of  the  last  ridge  ?  " 

"Old  man,"  answered  Bill,  as  he  wheeled  his  chair  toward 
the  Trapper,  with  a  pint  cup  of  tea  in  the  one  hand,  and  wiping 
his  mustache  with  the  coat  sleeve  of  the  other,  "  I  got  it  to  the 
top  three  times,  or  within  a  dozen  feet  from  the  top,  and  each 
time  it  got  away  from  me  and  went  to  the  bottom  agin  ;  for  the 
roots  was  slippery,  and  I  couldn't  git  a  grip  on  the  toe  of  my 
moccasins ;  but  I  held  on  to  the  rope,  and  I  got  to  the  bottom 
neck  and  neck  with  the  sled  every  time." 

"Ye  did  well,  ye  did  well,"  responded  the  Trapper,  laugh 
ing;  "for  a  loaded  sled  goes  down  hill  mighty  fast  when  the 
slide  is  a  steep  un,  and  a  man  who  gits  to  the  bottom  as  quick 
as  the  sled  must  have  a  good  grip,  and  be  considerably  in 
'arnest.  But  ye  got  her  up  finally  by  the  same  path,  didn't 
ye?" 

"Yes,  I  got  her  up,"  returned  Bill.  "The  fourth  time  I  went 
for  that  ridge,  I  fetched  her  to  the  top,  for  I  was  madder  than 
a  hornet." 

"  And  what  did  ye  do,  Bill  ?"  continued  the  Trapper.  "  What 
did  ye  do  when  ye  got  to  the  top  ? " 

"  I  jest  tied  that  sled  to  a  sapling  so  it  wouldn't  git  away 
agin,  and  I  got  on  to  the  top  of  that  box,  and  I  talked  to  that 
gulch  a  minit  or  two  in  a  way  that  satisfied  my  feelings." 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  answered  the  Trapper,  laughing,  "  fur 
ye  must  have  ben  a  good  deal  riled.  But  ye  did  well  to  git  the 
box  through,  and  ye  got  here  in  time,  and  ye've  'arnt  yer 


24  JOHN   NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS. 

wages  ;  and  now,  ef  ye'll  tell  me  how  much  I  am  to  pay  ye,  ye 
shall  have  yer  money,  and  ye  needn't  scrimp  yerself  on  the 
price,  Wild  Bill,  for  the  drag  has  been  a  hard  un  ;  so  tell  me 
yer  price,  and  I'll  count  ye  out  the  money." 

"  Old  man,"  answered  Bill,  "  I  didn't  bring  that  box  through 
for  money,  and  I  won't  take  a  —  " 

Perhaps  Wild  Bill  was  about  to  emphasize  his  refusal  by 
some  verbal  addition  to  the  simple  statement,  but,  if  it  was  his 
intention,  he  checked  himself,  and  said,  "a  cent." 

"It's  well  said,"  answered  the  Trapper;  "  yis,  it's  well  said, 
and  does  jestice  to  yer  feelin's,  I  don't  doubt ;  but  an  extra  pair 
of  breeches  one  of  these  days  wouldn't  hurt  ye,  and  the  money 
won't  come  amiss." 

"I  tell  ye,  old  man,"  returned  Wild  Bill  earnestly,  "I  won't 
take  a  cent.  I'll  allow  there's  several  colors  in  my  trousers,  for 
I've  patched  in  a  dozen  different  pieces  off  and  on,  and  I  doubt, 
as  ye  hint,  if  the  patching  holds  together  much  longer;  but 
I've  eaten  at  your  table  and  slept  in  your  cabin  more  than  once, 
John  Norton,  and  whether  I've  come  to  it  sober  or  drunk,  your 
door  was  never  shut  in  my  face ;  and  I  don't  forget  either  that 
the  man  who  sent  you  that  box  fished  me  from  the  creek 
one  day,  when  I  had  walked  into  it  with  two  bottles  of  the 
Dutchman's  whisky  in  my  pocket,  and  not  one  cent  of  your 
money  or  his  will  I  take  for  bringing  the  box  in  to  you." 

"Have  it  yer  own  way,  ef  ye  will,"  said  the  Trapper;  "but 
I  won't  forgit  the  deed  ye  have  did,  and  the  boy  won't  forgit 
it  neither.  Come,  let's  clear  away  the  vict'als,  and  we'll  open 


JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS.  25 

the  box.  It's  sartinly  a  big  un,  and  I  would  like  to  see  what 
he  has  put  inside  of  it." 

The  opening  of  the  box  was  a  spectacle  such  as  gladdens  the 
heart  to  see.  At  such  moments  the  countenance  of  the  Trap 
per  was  as  facile  in  the  changefulness  of  its  expression  as  that 
of  a  child.  The  passing  feelings  of  his  soul  found  an  adequate 
mirror  in  his  face,  as  the  white  clouds  of  a  summer  day  find 
full  reflection  in  the  depth  of  a  tranquil  lake.  He  was  not  too 
old  or  too  learned  to  be  wise,  for  the  wisdom  of  hearty  hap 
piness  was  his, —  the  wisdom  of  being  glad,  and  gladly  show 
ing  it. 

As  for  Wild  Bill,  the  best  of  his  nature  was  in  the  ascend 
ant,  and  with  the  curiosity  and  pleasure  of  a  child,  and  a  hap 
piness  as  sincere  as  if  the  box  were  his  own,  he  assisted  at  the 
opening. 

"  The  man  who  made  this  box  did  the  work  in  a  workman 
like  fashion,"  said  the  Trapper,  as  he  strove  to  insert  the  edge 
of  his  hatchet  into  the  jointing  of  the  cover,  '•'  fur  he  shet 
these  boards  together  like  the  teeth  of  a  bear  trap  when  the 
bars  be  well  'iled.  It's  a  pity  the  boy  didn't  send  him  along 
with  the  box,  Wild  Bill,  fur  it  sartinly  looks  as  ef  we  should 
have  to  kindle  a  fire  on  it,  and  burn  a  hole  in  through  the 
kiver." 

At  last,  by  dint  of  great  exertion,  and  with  the  assistance  of 
Wild  Bill  and  the  poker,  the  cover  of  the  box  was  wrenched  off, 
and  the  contents  were  partially  revealed. 

"Glory  to   God,  Wild  Bill!"  exclaimed  the  Trapper.     "Here 


28  JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS. 

be  yer  breeches  ! "  and  he  held  up  a  pair  of  pantaloons  made 
of  the  stoutest  Scotch  stuff.  "Yis,  here  be  yer  breeches,  fur 
here  on  the  waistband  be  pinned  a  bit  of  paper,  and  on  it  be 
written,  '  Fur  Wild  Bill.'  And  here  be  a  vest  to  match  ;  and 
here  be  a  jacket ;  and  here  be  two  pairs  of  socks  in  the  pocket  of 
the  jacket ;  and  here  be  two  woolen  shirts,  one  packed  away 
in  each  sleeve.  And  here  ! "  shouted  the  old  man,  as  he  turned 
up  the  lapel  of  the  coat,  "Wild  Bill,  look  here  !  Here  be  a  five- 
dollar  note  ! "  and  the  old  man  swung  one  of  the  socks  over  his 
head,  and  shouted,  "  Hurrah  for  Wild  Bill ! ''  And  the  two 
hounds,  catching  the  enthusiasm  of  their  master,  lifted  their 
muzzles  into  the  air,  and  bayed  deep  and  long,  till  the  cabin 
fairly  shook  with  the  joyful  uproar  of  man  and  dogs. 

It  is  doubtful  if  any  gift  ever  took  the  recipient  more  by 
surprise  than  this  bestowed  upon  Wild  Bill.  It  is  true  that, 
judged  by  the  law  of  strict  deserts,  the  poor  fellow  had  not 
deserved  much  of  the  world,  and  certainly  the  world  had  not 
forgotten  to  be  strictly  just  in  his  case,  for  it  had  not  given 
him  much.  It  is  a  question  if  he  had  ever  received  a  gift  be 
fore  in  all  his  life,  certainly  not  one  of  any  considerable  value. 
His  reception  of  this  generous  and  thoughtful  provision  for  his 
wants  was  characteristic  both  of  his  training  and  his  nature. 

The  Old  Trapper,  as  he  ended  his  cheering,  flung  the  panta 
loons,  the  vest,  the  jacket,  the  socks,  the  shirts,  and  the  money 
into  his  lap. 

For  a  moment  the  poor  fellow  sat  looking  at  the  warm  and 
costly  garments  that  he  held  in  his  hands,  silent  in  an  astonish- 


JOHN   NORTON'S   CHRISTMAS.  27 

ment  too  profound  for  speech,  and  then,  recovering  the  use  of 
his  organs,  he  gasped  forth  :  — 

"I  swear  !"  and  then  broke  down,  and  sobbed  like  a  child. 

The  Trapper,  kneeling  beside  the  box,  looked  at  the  poor 
fellow  with  a  face  radiant  with  happiness,  while  his  mouth  was 
stretched  with  laughter,  utterly  unconscious  that  tears  were 
brimming  his  own  eyes. 

"Old  Trapper,"  said  Wild  Bill,  rising  to  his  feet,  and  holding 
the  garments  forth  in  his  hands,  "  this  is  the  first  present  I 
ever  received  in  my  life.  I  have  been  kicked  and  cussed, 
sneered  at  and  taunted,  and  I  deserved  it  all.  But  no  man  ever 
gave  me  a  lift,  or  showed  he  cared  a  cent  whether  I  starved  or 
froze,  lived  or  died.  You  know,  John  Norton,  what  a  fool  I've 
been,  and  what  has  ruined  me,  and  that  when  sober  I'm  more 
of  a  man  than  many  who  hoot  me.  And  here  I  swear,  old 
man,  that  while  a  button  is  on  this  jacket,  or  two  threads  of 
these  breeches  hold  together,  I'll  never  touch  a  drop  of  liquor, 
sick  or  well,  living  or  dying,  so  help  me  God  !  and  there's  my 
hand  on  it." 

"Amen!"  exclaimed  the  Trapper,  as  he  sprang  to  his  feet, 
and  clasped  in  his  own  strong  palm  the  hand  that  the  other 
had  stretched  out  to  him.  "  The  Lord  in  His  marcy  be  nigh  ye 
when  tempted,  Bill,  and  keep  ye  true  to  yer  pledge ! " 

Of  all  the  pleasant  sights  that  the  angels  of  God,  looking 
from  their  high  homes,  saw  on  earth  that  Christmas  Eve,  per 
haps  not  one  was  dearer  in  their  eyes  than  the  spectacle  here 
described,  —  the  two  sturdy  men  standing  with  their  hands 


28  JOHN  NORTON'S   CHRISTMAS. 

clasped  in  solemn  pledge  of  the  reformation  of  the  one,  and  the 
helping  sympathy  of  the  other,  above  that  Christmas  box  in  the 
cabin  in  the  woods. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  follow  in  detail  the  Trapper's  further 
examination  of  the  box.  The  reader's  imagination,  assisted  by 
many  a  happy  reminiscence,  will  enable  him  to  realize  the 
scene.  There  was  a  small  keg  of  powder,  a  large  plug  of  lead, 
a  little  chest  of  tea,  a  bag  of  sugar,  and  also  one  of  coffee. 
There  were  nails,  matches,  thread,  buttons,  a  woolen  under- 
jacket,  a  pair  of  mittens,  and  a  cap  of  choicest  fur,  made 
of  an  otter's  skin  that  Henry  himself  had  trapped  a  year  be 
fore.  All  these  and  other  packages  were  taken  out  one  by  one, 
carefully  examined,  and  characteristically  commented  on  by  the 
Trapper,  and  passed  to  Wild  Bill,  who  in  turn  inspected  and 
commented  on  them,  and  then  laid  them  carefully  on  the  table. 
Beneath  these  packages  was  a  thin  board,  constituting  a  sort  of 
division  between  its  upper  and  lower  half. 

"  There  seems  to  be  a  sort  of  cellar  to  this  box,"  said  the 
Trapper,  as  he  sat  looking  at  the  division.  "  I  shouldn't  be  sur 
prised  ef  the  boy  himself  was  in  here  somewhere,  so  be  ready, 
Bill,  fur  anything,  fur  the  Lord  only  knows  what's  underneath 
this  board."  Saying  which,  the  old  man  thrust  his  hand  under 
one  end  of  the  division,  and  pulled  out  a  bundle  loosely  tied  with 
a  string,  which  became  unfastened  as  the  Trapper  lifted  the  roll 
from  its  place  in  the  box,  and,  as  he  shook  it  open,  and  held  its 
contents  at  arm's  length  up  to  the  light,  the  startled  eyes  of  Wild 
Bill,  and  the  earnest  gaze  of  the  Trapper,  beheld  a  woman's  dress ! 


JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS.  29 

"Heavens  and  'arth,  Bill!"  exclaimed  the  Trapper,  "what's 
this?"  And  then  a  flash  of  light  crossed  his  face,  in  the  illumi 
nation  of  which  the  look  of  wonder  vanished,  and,  dropping 
upon  his  knees,  he  flung  the  dividing  board  out  of  the  box,  and 
his  companion  and  himself  saw  at  a  glance  what  was  under 
neath. 

Children's  shoes,  and  dresses  of  warmest  stuffs ;  tippets  and 
mittens  ;  a  full  suit  for  a  little  boy,  boots  and  all ;  a  jackknife 
and  whistle  ;  two  dolls  dressed  in  brave  finery,  with  flaxen  hair 
and  blue  eyes  ;  a  little  hatchet  ;  a  huge  ball  of  yarn,  and  a 
hundred  and  one  things  needed  in  the  household  ;  and  under 
neath  all  a  Bible  ;  and  under  that  a  silver  star  on  a  blue  field, 
and  pinned  to  the  silk  a  scrap  of  paper,  on  which  was  written, — 

"  Hang  this  over  the  picture  of  the  lad." 

"Ay,  ay,"  said  the  Trapper  in  a  tremulous  voice,  as  he  looked 
at  the  silver  star,  "it  shall  be  done  as  ye  say,  boy  ;  but  the  lad 
has  got  beyend  the  clouds,  and  is  walkin'  a  trail  that  is  lighted 
from  eend  to  eend  by  a  light  clearer  and  brighter  than  ever 
come  from  the  shinin'  of  any  star.  I  hope  we  may  be  found 
worthy  to  walk  it  with  him,  boy,  when  we,  too,  have  come  to 
the  edge  of  the  Great  Clearin'." 

To  the  Trapper  it  was  perfectly  evident  for  whom  the  con 
tents  of  the  box  were  intended  ;  but  the  sender  had  left  nothing 
in  doubt,  for,  when  the  old  man  had  lifted  from  the  floor  the 
board  that  he  had  flung  out,  he  discovered  some  writing  traced 
with  heavy  penciling  on  the  wood,  and  which  without  much 
effort  he  spelled  out  to  Wild  Bill,— 


30  JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS. 

"Give  these  on  Christmas  Day  to  the  woman  at  the  dismal 
hut,  and  a  merry  Christmas  to  you  all." 

"Ay,  ay,"  said  the  Trapper,  "it  shall  be  did.  ban-in'  acci 
dent,  as  ye  say ;  and  a  merry  Christmas  it'll  make  fur  us  all. 
Lord-a-massy  !  what  will  the  poor  woman  say  when  she  and 
her  leetle  uns  git  these  warm  garments  on  ?  There  be  no  trouble 
about  fillin'  the  basket  now ;  no,  I  sartinly  can't  git  half  of  the 
stuff  in.  Wild  Bill,  I  guess  ye'll  have  to  do  some  more  sleddin' 
to-morrow,  fur  these  presents  must  go  over  the  mountain  in  the 
mornin',  ef  we  have  to  harness  up  the  pups."  And  then  he 
told  his  companion  of  the  poor  woman  and  the  children,  and 
his  intended  visit  to  them  on  the  morrow. 

"I  fear,"  he  said,  "that  they  be  havin'  a  hard  time  of  it, 
'specially  ef  her  husband  has  desarted  her." 

"  Little  good  he  would  do  her,  if  he  was  with  her,"  answered 
Wild  Bill,  "for  he's  a  lazy  knave  when  he  is  sober,  and  a  thief 
as  well,  as  you  and  I  know,  John  Norton ;  for  he's  fingered  our 
traps  more  than  once,  and  swapped  the  skins  for  liquor  at  the 
Dutchman's ;  but  he's  thieved  once  too  many  times,  for  the 
folks  in  the  settlement  has  ketched  him  in  the  act,  and  they 
put  him  in  the  jail  for  six  months,  as  I  heard  day  before  yes 
terday." 

"I'm  glad  on't  ;  yis,  I'm  glad  on't,"  answered  the  Trapper; 
"and  I  hope  they'll  keep  him  there  till  they've  larnt  him  how  to 
work.  I've  had  my  eye  on  the  knave  for  a  good  while,  and  the 
last  time  I  seed  him  I  told  him  ef  he  fingered  any  more  of  my 
traps,  I'd  larn  him  the  commandments  in  a  way  he  wouldn't 


JOHN   NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS.  31 

forgit;  and,  as  I  had  him  in  hand,  and  felt  a  leetle  like  talkin' 
that  mornin',  I  gin  him  a  piece  of  my  mind,  techin'  his  treat 
ment  of  his  wife  and  leetle  uns,  that  he  didn't  relish,  I  fancy, 
fur  he  winced  and  squirmed  like  a  fox  in  a  trap.  Yis,  I'm  glad 
they've  got  the  knave,  and  I  hope  they'll  keep  him  till  he's  an 
swered  fur  his  misdoin' ;  but  I'm  sartinly  afeered  the  poor  wo 
man  be  havin'  a  hard  time  of  it." 

"I  fear  so,  too,"  answered  Wild  Bill;  "and  if  I  can  do  any 
thing  to  help  you  in  your  plans,  jest  say  the  word,  and  I'm 
your  man  to  back  or  haul,  jest  as  you  want  me." 

And  so  it  was  arranged  that  they  should  go  over  the  moun 
tain  together  on  the  morrow,  and  take  the  provisions  and  the 
gifts  that  were  in  the  box  to  the  poor  woman.  And,  after  talking 
awhile  of  the  happiness  their  visit  would  give,  the  two  men, 
happy  in  their  thoughts,  and  with  their  hearts  full  of  that  peace 
which  passeth  the  understanding  of  the  selfish,  laid  themselves 
down  to  sleep  ;  and  over  the  two,  —  the  one  drawing  to  the 
close  of  an  honorable  and  well-spent  life,  the  other  standing  at 
the  middle  of  a  hitherto  useless  existence,  but  facing  the  future 
with  a  noble  resolution,  —  over  the  two,  as  they  slept,  the  angels 
of  Christmas  kept  their  watch. 


n. 

ON  the  other  side  of  the  mountain  stood  the  dismal  hut ;  and 
the  stars  of  that  blessed  eve  had  shone  down  upon  the  lonely 
clearing  in  which  it  stood,  and  the  smooth  white  surface  of  the 


«Si>  JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS. 

frozen  and  snow-covered  lake  which  lay  in  front  of  it,  as 
brightly  as  they  had  shone  on  the  cabin  of  the  Trapper  ;  but 
no  friendly  step  had  made  its  trail  in  the  surrounding  snow, 
and  no  blessed  gift  had  been  brought  to  its  solitary  door. 

As  the  evening  wore  on,  the  great  clearing  round  about  it 
remained  drearily  void  of  sound  or  motion,  and  filled  only  with 
the  white  stillness  of  the  frosty,  snow-lighted  night.  Once, 
indeed,  a  wolf  stole  from  underneath  the  dark  balsams  into  the 
white  silence,  and,  running  up  a  huge  log  that  lay  aslant  a 
ledge  of  rocks,  looked  across  and  round  the  great  opening  in 
the  woods,  stood  a  moment,  then  gave  a  shivering  sort  of  a 
yelp,  and  scuttled  back  under  the  shadow  of  the  forest,  as  if  its 
darkness  was  warmer  than  the  frozen  stillness  of  the  open  space. 
An  owl,  perched  somewhere  amid  the  pine-tops,  snug  and  warm 
within  the  cover  of  its  arctic  plumage,  engaged  from  time  to 
time  in  solemn  gossip  with  some  neighbor  that  lived  on  the 
opposite  shore  of  the  lake.  And  once  a  raven,  roosting  on  the 
dry  bough  of  a  lightning-blasted  pine,  dreamed  that  the  white 
moonlight  was  the  light  of  dawn,  and  began  to  stir  his  sable 
wings,  and  croak  a  harsh  welcome ;  but  awakened  by  his 
blunder,  and  ashamed  of  his  mistake,  he  broke  off  in  the 
very  midst  of  his  discordant  call,  and  again  settled  gloomily 
down  amid  his  black  plumes  to  his  interrupted  repose,  making 
by  his  sudden  silence  the  surrounding  silence  more  silent  than 
before. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  very  angels,  who,  we  are  taught,  fly  abroad 
over  all  the  earth  that  blessed  night,  carrying  gifts  to  every 


JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS.  33 

household,  had  forgotten  the  cabin  in  the  woods,  and  had  left 
it  to  the  cold  hospitality  of  unsympathetic  nature. 

Within  the  lonely  hut,  which  thus  seemed  forgotten  of 
Heaven  itself,  sat  a  woman  huddling  her  young  —  two  girls  and 
a  boy.  The  fireplace  was  of  monstrous  proportions,  and  the 
chimney  yawned  upward  so  widely  that  one  looking  up  the 
sooty  passage  might  see  the  stars  shining  overhead.  A  little 
fire  burned  feebly  in  the  huge  stone  recess  :  scant  warmth 
might  such  a  fire  yield,  kindled  in  such  a  fireplace,  to  those 
around  it.  Indeed,  the  little  flame  seemed  conscious  of  its  own 
inability,  and  burned  with  a  wavering  and  mistrustful  flicker, 
as  if  it  were  discouraged  in  view  of  the  task  set  before  it,  and 
had  more  than  half  concluded  to  go  out  altogether. 

The  cabin  was  of  large  size,  and  undivided  into  apartments. 
The  little  fire  was  only  able  to  illuminate  the  central  section, 
and  more  than  half  of  the  room  was  hidden  in  utter  darkness. 
The  woman's  face,  which  the  faint  flame  over  which  she  was 
crouched  revealed  with  painful  clearness,  showed  pale  and  hag 
gard.  The  induration  of  exposure  and  the  tightening  lines  of 
hunger  sharpened  and  marred  a  countenance  which  a  happier 
fortune  would  have  kept  even  comely.  It  had  that  old  look 
about  it  which  comes  from  wretchedness  rather  than  age,  and 
the  weariness  of  its  expression  was  pitiful  to  see.  Was  it  work 
or  vain  waiting  for  happier  fortunes  that  made  her  look  so 
tired  ?  Alas  !  the  weariness  of  waiting  for  what  we  long  for, 
and  long  for  purely,  but  which  never  comes  !  Is  it  the  work  or 
the  longing — the  long  longing  —  that  has  put  the  silver  in  your 

3 


34  JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS. 

head,  friend,  and  scarred  the  smooth  bloom  of  your  cheeks,  my 
lady,  with  those  ugly  lines  ? 

"Mother,  I'm  hungry,"  said  the  little  boy,  looking  up  into 
the  woman's  face.  "Can't  I  have  just  a  little  more  to  eat  ?" 

"Be  still,"  answered  the  woman  sharply,  speaking  in  the 
tones  of  vexed  inability.  "  I've  given  you  almost  the  last  mor 
sel  in  the  house." 

The  boy  said  nothing  more,  but  nestled  up  more  closely  to 
his  mother's  knee,  and  stuck  one  little  stockingless  foot  out  until 
the  cold  toes  were  half  hidden  in  the  ashes.  O  warmth  !  blessed 
warmth  !  how  pleasant  art  thou  to  old  and  young  alike  !  Thou 
art  the  emblem  of  life,  as  thy  absence  is  the  evidence  and  sign 
of  life's  cold  opposite.  Would  that  all  the  cold  toes  in  the  world 
could  get  to  my  grate  to-night,  and  all  the  shivering  ones  be 
gathered  to  this  fireside  !  Ay,  and  that  the  children  of  poverty, 
that  lack  for  bread,  might  get  their  hungry  hands  into  that 
well-filled  cupboard  there,  too  ! 

In  a  moment  the  woman  said,  "  You  children  had  better  go 
to  bed.  You'll  be  warmer  in  the  rags  than  in  this  miserable 
fireplace." 

The  words  were  harshly  spoken,  as  if  the  very  presence  of 
the  children,  cold  and  hungry  as  they  were,  was  a  vexation  to 
her  ;  and  they  moved  off  in  obedience  to  her  command. 

O  cursed  poverty  !  I  know  thee  to  be  of  Satan,  for  I  myself 
have  eaten  at  thy  scant  table,  and  slept  in  thy  cold  bed.  And 
never  yet  have  I  seen  thee  bring  one  smile  to  human  lips,  or 
dry  one  tear  as  it  fell  from  a  human  eye.  But  I  have  seen 


JOHN   NORTON'S   CHRISTMAS.  35 

thee  sharpen  the  tongue  for  biting  speech,  and  harden  the  ten 
der  heart.  Ay,  I've  seen  thee  make  even  the  presence  of  love  a 
burden,  and  cause  the  mother  to  wish  that  the  puny  babe  nurs 
ing  her  scant  breast  had  never  been  born.  And  so  the  children 
went  to  their  unsightly  bed,  and  silence  reigned  in  the  hut. 

"Mother,"  said  one  of  the  girls,  speaking  out  of  the  dark 
ness, —  "mother,  isn't  this  Christmas  Eve?" 

"Yes,"  answered  the  woman  sharply.  "Go  to  sleep."  And 
again  there  was  silence. 

Happy  is  childhood,  that  amid  whatever  deprivation  and 
misery  it  can  so  weary  itself  in  the  day  that  when  night  comes 
on  it  can  lose  in  the  forgetfulness  of  slumber  its  sorrows  and 
wants  ! 

Thus,  while  the  children  lost  the  sense  of  their  unhappy  sur 
roundings,  including  the  keen  pangs  of  hunger,  for  a  time,  and 
under  the  tattered  blankets  that  covered  them  saw,  perhaps, 
visions  of  enchanting  lands,  and  in  their  dreams  feasted  at 
those  wonderful  tables  which  hungry  children  see  only  in  sleep, 
to  the  poor  woman  sitting  at  the  failing  fire  there  came  no  sur 
cease  of  sorrow,  and  no  vision  threw  even  an  evanescent 
brightness  over  the  hard,  cold  facts  of  her  surroundings.  And 
the  reality  of  her  condition  was  dire  enough,  God  knows.  Alone 
in  the  wilderness,  miles  from  any  human  habitation,  the  trails 
covered  deep  with  snow,  her  provisions  exhausted,  actual  suf 
fering  already  upon  them,  and  starvation  staring  them  squarely 
in  the  face, —  no  wonder  that  her  soul  sank  within  her  ;  no  won 
der  that  her  thoughts  turned  toward  bitterness. 


36  JOHN  NORTON'S   CHRISTMAS. 

"Yes,  it's  Christmas  Eve,"  she  muttered,  "and  the  rich  will 
keep  it  gayly.  God  sends  them  presents  enough  ;  but  you  see  if 
He  remembers  me !  Oh.  they  may  talk  about  the  angels  of 
Christmas  Eve  flying  abroad  to-night,  loaded  with  gifts,  but 
they'll  fly  mighty  high  above  this  shanty,  I  reckon  ;  no,  they 
won't  even  drop  a  piece  of  meat  as  they  soar  past."  And  so 
she  sat  muttering  and  moaning  over  her  woes,  and  they  were 
heavy  enough, —  too  heavy  for  her  poor  soul,  unassisted,  to  lift, 
—  while  the  flame  on  the  hearth  grew  thinner  and  thinner,  until 
it  had  no  more  warmth  in  it  than  the  shadow  of  a  ghost,  and, 
like  its  resemblance,  was  about  to  flit  and  fade  away.  At  last 
she  said,  in  a  softened  tone,  as  if  the  remembrance  of  the 
Christmas  legend  had  softened  her  surly  thoughts  and  sweetened 
the  bitter  mood  : — 

"  Perhaps  I'm  wrong  to  take  on  so.  Perhaps  it  isn't  God's 
fault  that  I  and  my  children  are  deserted  and  starving.  But 
why  should  the  innocent  be  punished  for  the  guilty,  and  why 
should  the  wicked  have  enough  and  to  spare,  while  those  who 
do  no  evil  go  half  naked  and  starved  ? " 

Alas,  poor  woman  !  that  puzzle  has  puzzled  many  besides 
thee,  and  many  lips  besides  thine  have  asked  that  question, 
querulously  or  entreatingly,  many  a  time ;  but  whether  they 
asked  it  in  vexation  and  rebellion  of  spirit,  or  humbly  besought 
Heaven  to  answer,  to  neither  murmur  nor  prayer  did  Heaven 
vouchsafe  a  response.  Is  it  because  we  are  so  small,  or,  being 
small,  are  so  inquisitive,  that  the  Great  Oracle  of  the  blue 
remains  so  dumb  when  we  cry  ? 


JOHN   NORTON'S   CHRISTMAS.  37 

At  this  point  the  poor  little  flame,  as  if  unable  to  abide  the 
cold  much  longer,  flared  fitfully,  and  uneasily  shifted  itself  from 
brand  to  brand,  threatening  with  many  a  flicker  to  go  out ;  but 
the  woman,  with  her  elbows  011  her  knees,  and  her  face  settled 
firmly  between  her  hands,  still  sat  with  eyes  that  saw  not  the 
feeble  flame  at  which  they  so  steadily  gazed. 

"I  will  do  it,  I  will  do  it!"  she  suddenly  exclaimed.  "I 
will  make  one  more  effort.  They  shall  not  starve  while  I  have 
strength  to  try.  Perhaps  God  will  aid  me.  They  say  He  always 
does  at  the  last  pinch,  and  He  certainly  sees  that  I  am  there 
now.  I  wonder  if  He's  been  waiting  for  me  to  get  just  where  I 
am  before  He  helped  me.  There  is  one  more  chance  left,  and 
I'll  make  the  trial.  I'll  go  down  to  the  shore  where  I  saw  the 
big  tracks  in  the  snow.  It's  a  long  way,  but  I  shall  get  there 
somehow.  If  God  is  going  to  be  good  to  me,  He  won't  let  me 
freeze  or  faint  011  the  way.  Yes,  I'll  creep  into  bed  now,  and 
try  to  get  a  little  sleep,  for  I  must  be  strong  in  the  morning." 
And  with  these  words  the  poor  woman  crept  off  to  her  bed,  and 
burrowed  down,  more  like  an  animal  than  a  human  being,  be 
side  her  little  ones,  as  they  lay  huddled  close  together  and 
asleep,  down  in  the  rags. 

What  angel  was  it  that  followed  her  to  her  miserable  couch, 
and  stirred  kindly  feelings  in  her  bosom  ?  Some  sweet  one, 
surely  ;  for  she  shortly  lifted  herself  to  a  sitting  posture,  and, 
gently  drawing  down  the  old  blanket  with  which  the  children, 
for  warmth's  sake,  had  wrapped  their  heads,  looked  as  only  a 
mother  might  at  the  three  little  faces  lying  side  by  side,  and, 


38  JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS. 

bending  tenderly  over  them,  she  placed  a  gentle  kiss  upon  the 
forehead  of  each ;  then  she  nestled  down  again  in  her  own 
place,  and  said,  "Perhaps  God  will  help  me."  And  with  this 
sentence,  half  a  prayer  and  half  a  doubt,  born  on  the  one  hand 
from  that  sweet  faith  which  never  quite  deserts  a  woman's 
bosom,  and  on  the  other  from  that  bitter  experience  which  had 
made  her  seem  in  her  own  eyes  deserted  of  God,  she  fell 
asleep. 

She,  too,  dreamed  ;  but  her  dreaming  was  only  the  prolonga 
tion  of  her  waking  thoughts  ;  for  long  after  her  eyes  closed  she 
moved  uneasily  on  her  hard  couch,  and  muttered,  "Perhaps 
God  will.  Perhaps  —  " 

Sad  is  it  for  us  who  are  old  enough  to  have  tasted  the  bit 
terness  of  that  cup  which  life  sooner  or  later  presents  to  all 
lips,  and  have  borne  the  burden  of  its  toil  and  fretting,  that 
our  vexations  and  disappointments  pursue  us  even  in  our  slum 
ber,  disturbing  our  sleep  with  reproachful  visions  and  the  sound 
of  voices  whose  upbraiding  robs  us  of  our  otherwise  peaceful 
repose.  Perhaps  somewhere  in  the  years  to  come,  after  much 
wandering  and  weariness,  guided  of  God,  we  may  come  to  that 
fountain  of  which  the  ancients  dreamed,  and  for  which  the 
noblest  among  them  sought  so  long,  and  died  seeking ;  plunging 
into  which,  we  shall  find  our  lost  youth  in  its  cool  depths,  and, 
rising  refreshed  and  strengthened,  shall  go  on  our  eternal  jour 
ney  re-clothed  with  the  beauty,  the  innocence,  and  the  happi 
ness  of  our  youth. 

The  poor  woman  slept  uneasily,  and  with  much  muttering  to 


JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS.  39 

herself ;  but  the  rapid  hours  slid  noiselessly  down  the  icy 
grooves  of  night,  and  soon  the  cold  morning  put  its  white  face 
against  the  frozen  windows  of  the  east,  and  peered  shiveringly 
forth.  Who  says  the  earth  cannot  look  as  cold  and  forbidding 
as  the  human  countenance  ?  The  sky  hung  over  the  frozen 
world  like  a  dome  of  gray  steel,  whose  invisibly  matched  plates 
were  riveted  here  and  there  by  a  few  white,  gleaming  stars. 
The  surface  of  the  snow  sparkled  with  crystals  that  flashed 
colorlessly  cold.  The  air  seemed  armed,  and  full  of  sharp, 
eager  points  that  pricked  the  skin  painfully.  The  great  tree- 
trunks  cracked  their  sharp  protests  against  the  frosty  entrances 
being  made  beneath  their  bark.  The  lake,  from  under  the 
smothering  ice,  roared  in  dismay  and  pain,  and  sent  the  thun 
ders  of  its  wrath  at  its  imprisonment  around  the  resounding 
shores.  A  bitter  morn,  a  bitter  morn,  —  ah  me  !  a  bitter  morn 
for  the  poor  ! 

The  woman,  wakened  by  the  gray  light,  moved  in  the  depths 
of  the  tattered  blankets,  sat  upright,  rubbed  her  eyes  with  her 
hands,  looked  about  her  as  if  to  recall  her  scattered  senses,  and 
then,  as  thought  returned,  crept  stealthily  out  of  the  hole  in 
which  she  had  lain,  that  she  might  not  wake  the  children,  who, 
coiled  together,  slumbered  on,  still  closely  clasped  in  the  arms 
of  blessed  unconsciousness. 

"  They  had  better  sleep,"  she  said  to  herself.  "If  I  fail  to 
bring  them  meat,  I  hope  they  will  never  wake  ! " 

Ah !  if  the  poor  woman  could  only  have  foreseen  the  bitter 
disappointment,  or  that  other  something  which  the  future  was 


40  JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS. 

to  bring  her,  would  she  have  made  that  prayer  ?  Is  it  best  for 
us,  as  some  say,  that  we  cannot  see  what  is  coming,  but  must 
weep  on  till  the  last  tear  is  shed,  uncheered  by  the  sweet  for 
tune  so  nigh,  or  laugh  unchecked  until  the  happy  tones  are 
mingled  with,  and  smothered  by,  the  rising  moan  ?  Is  it  best, 
I  wonder  ? 

She  noiselessly  gathered  together  what  additions  she  could 
make  to  her  garments,  and  then,  taking  down  the  rifle  from  its 
hangings,  opened  the  door,  and  stepped  forth  into  the  outer  cold. 
There  was  a  look  of  brave  determination  in  her  eyes  as  she 
faced  the  chilly  greeting  the  world  gave  her,  and,  with  more  of 
hopefulness  than  had  before  appeared  upon  her  countenance, 
she  struck  bravely  off  along  the  lake  shore,  which  at  this  point 
receded  toward  the  mountain. 

For  an  hour  she  kept  steadily  on,  with  her  eyes  constantly 
on  the  alert  for  the  least  sign  of  the  wished  and  prayed-for 
game.  Suddenly  she  stopped,  and  crouched  down  in  the  snow, 
peering  straight  ahead.  Well  might  she  seek  concealment,  for 
there,  standing  on  a  point  of  land  that  jutted  sharply  out  into 
the  lake,  not  forty  rods  away,  unscreened  and  plain  to  view, 
stood  a  buck  of  such  goodly  proportions  as  one  even  in  years  of 
hunting  might  not  see. 

The  woman's  eyes  fairly  gleamed  as  she  saw  the  noble  ani 
mal  standing  thus  in  full  sight  ;  but  who  may  tell  the  agony  of 
fear  and  hope  that  filled  her  bosom !  The  buck  stood  lordly 
erect,  facing  the  east,  as  if  he  would  do  homage  to,  or  receive 
homage  from,  the  rising  sun,  whose  yellow  beams  fell  full  upon 


JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS.  41 

his  uplifted  front.  The  thought  of  her  mind,  the  fear  of  her 
heart,  were  plain.  The  buck  would  soon  move  ;  when  he  moved, 
which  way  would  he  move  ?  Would  he  go  from  or  come  toward 
her  ?  Would  she  get  him,  or  would  she  lose  him  ?  Oh,  the  agony 
of  that  thought ! 

"God  of  the  starving,"  burst  from  her  quivering  lips,  "let 
not  my  children  die  !  " 

Many  prayers  more  ornate  rose  that  day  to  Him  whose  ears 
are  open  to  all  cries.  But  of  all  that  prayed  on  that  Christmas 
morn,  whether  with  few  words  or  many,  surely,  110  heart  rose 
with  the  seeking  words  more  earnestly  than  that  of  the  poor 
woman  kneeling  as  she  prayed,  rifle  in  hand,  amid  the  snow. 

"  God  of  the  starving,  let  not  my  children  die  !  " 

That  was  her  prayer  ;  and,  as  if  in  answer  to  her  agonizing 
petition,  the  buck  turned  and  began  to  advance  directly  toward 
her,  browsing  as  he  came.  Once  he  stopped,  looked  around,  and 
snuffed  the  air  suspiciously.  Had  he  scented  her  presence,  and 
would  he  bound  away  ?  Should  she  fire  now  ?  No  :  her  judg 
ment  told  her  she  could  not  trust  the  gun  or  her  aim  at  such  a 
range.  He  must  come  nigher, —  come  even  to  the  big  maple, 
and  stand  there,  not  ten  rods  away ;  then  she  felt  sure  she 
should  get  him.  So  she  waited.  Oh,  how  the  cold  ate  into 
her  !  How  her  teeth  chattered  as  the  chills  ran  their  torturing 
courses  through  her  thin,  shivering  frame  !  But  still  she  clutched 
the  cold  barrel,  and  still  she  watched  and  waited,  and  still  she 
prayed  :  — 

"  God  of  the  starving,  let  not  my  children  die  ! " 


42  JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS. 

Alas,  poor  woman !  My  own  body  shivers  as  1  think  of 
thine,  and  my  pen  falters  to  write  what  misery  befell  thee  on 
that  wretched  morn. 

Did  the  buck  turn  ?  Did  he,  having  come  so  tantalizingly 
near,  retrace  his  steps  ?  No.  He  continued  to  advance.  Had 
Heaven  heard  her  prayer  ?  Her  soul  answered  it  had ;  and 
with  such  feelings  in  it  toward  Him  to  whom  she  had  appealed 
as  she  had  not  felt  in  all  her  life  before,  she  steadied  herself 
for  the  shot.  For  even  as  she  prayed,  the  deer  came  on,  — 
came  to  the  big  maple,  and  lifted  his  muzzle  to  its  highest 
reach  to  seize  with  his  tongue  a  thin  streamer  of  moss  that  lay 
against  the  smooth  bark.  There  he  stood,  his  blue-brown  side 
full  toward  her,  unconscious  of  her  presence.  Noiselessly  she 
cocked  the  piece.  Noiselessly  she  raised  it  to  her  face,  and,  with 
every  nerve  drawn  to  its  tightest  tension,  sighted  the  noble 
game,  and — fired. 

Had  the  frosty  air  watered  her  eye  ?  was  it  a  tear  of  joy  and 
gratitude  that  dimmed  the  clearness  of  its  sight  ?  or  were  the 
half-frozen  fingers  unable  to  steady  the  cold  barrel  at  the  in 
stant  of  its  explosion  ?  We  know  not.  We  only  know  that  in 
spite  of  prayer,  in  spite  of  noblest  effort,  she  missed  the  game. 
For,  as  the  rifle  cracked,  the  buck  gave  a  snort  of  fear,  and 
with  swift  bounds  flew  up  the  mountain ;  while  the  poor  woman, 
dropping  the  gun  with  a  groan,  fell  fainting  on  the  snow. 


JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS.  43 

III. 

AT  the  same  moment  the  rifle  sounded,  two  men,  the  Trap 
per  with  his  pack,  and  Wild  Bill  with  his  sled  heavily  loaded, 
were  descending  the  western  slope  of  the  mountain,  not  a  mile 
from  the  clearing  in  which  stood  the  lonely  cabin.  The  sound  of 
the  piece  brought  them  to  a  halt  as  quickly  as  if  the  bullet  had 
cut  through  the  air  in  front  of  their  faces.  For  several  minutes 
both  stood  in  the  attitude  of  listening. 

"Down  into  the  snow  with  ye,  pups!"  exclaimed  the  Trap 
per,  in  a  hoarse  whisper.  "Down  into  the  snow  with  ye,  I  say! 
Rover,  ef  ye  lift  yer  muzzle  agin,  I'll  warm  yer  back  with  the 
ramrod.  By  the  Lord,  Bill,  the  buck  is  comin'  this  way ;  ye 
can  see  his  horns  lift  above  the  leetle  balsams  as  he  breaks 
through  the  thicket  yender.  Ef  he  strikes  the  runway,  he'll 
sartinly  come  within  range  ; "  and  the  Old  Trapper  slipped  his 
arms  from  the  pack,  and,  lowering  it  to  the  earth,  sank  on  his 
knees  beside  it,  where  he  waited  as  motionless  as  if  the  breath 
had  departed  his  body. 

Onward  came  the  game.  As  the  Trapper  had  suggested,  the 
buck,  with  mighty  and  far-reaching  bounds,  cleared  the  shrubby 
obstructions,  and,  entering  the  runway,  tore  up  the  familiar 
path  with  the  violence  of  a  tornado.  Onward  he  came,  his  head 
flung  upward,  his  antlers  laid  well  back,  tongue  lolling  from  his 
mouth,  and  his  nostrils  smoking  with  the  hot  breaths  that  burst 
in  streaming  columns  from  them.  Not  until  his  swift  career 
had  brought  him  exactly  in  front  of  his  position  did  the  old 


44  JOHN   NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS. 

man  stir  a  muscle.  But  then,  quick  as  the  motion  of  the  leap 
ing  game,  his  rifle  jumped  to  his  cheek,  and  even  as  the  buck 
was  at  the  central  point  of  his  leap,  and  suspended  in  the  air, 
the  piece  cracked  sharp  and  clear,  and  the  deer,  stricken  to  his 
death,  fell  with  a  crash  to  the  ground.  The  quivering  hounds 
rose  to  their  feet,  and  bayed  long  and  deep ;  Wild  Bill  swung 
his  hat  and  yelled ;  and  for  a  moment  the  woods  rang  with  the 
wild  cries  of  dogs  and  man. 

"  Lord-a-massy,  Bill,  what  a  mouth  ye  have  when  ye  open 
it  ! "  exclaimed  the  Trapper,  as  he  leisurely  poured  the  powder 
into  the  still  smoking  barrel.  "  Atween  ye  and  the  pups,  it's 
enough  to  drive  a  man  crazy.  I  should  sartinly  think  ye  had 
never  seed  a  deer  shot  afore,  by  the  way  ye  be  actinV 

"  I've  seen  a  good  many,  as  you  know,  John  Norton  ;  but  I 
never  saw  one  tumbled  over  by  a  single  bullet  when  at  the 
very  top  of  his  jump,  as  that  one  was.  I  surely  thought  you 
had  waited  too  long,  and  I  wouldn't  have  given  a  cent  for  your 
chances  when  you  pulled.  It  was  a  wonderful  shot,  John  Nor 
ton,  and  I  would  take  just  such  another  tramp  as  I  have  had, 
to  see  you  do  it  again,  old  man." 

"It  wasn't  bad/'  returned  the  Trapper;  "no,  it  sartinly 
wasn't  bad,  for  he  was  goin'  as  ef  the  Old  Harry  was  arter  him. 
I  shouldn't  wonder  ef  he  had  felt  the  tech  of  lead  down  there 
in  the  holler,  and  the  smart  of  his  hurt  kept  him  flyin'.  Let's 
go  and  look  him  over,  and  see  ef  we  can't  find  the  markin's  of 
the  bullit  on  him." 

In  a  moment  the  two  stood  above  the  dead  deer. 


JOHN  NORTON'S   CHRISTMAS.  45 

"It  is  as  I  thought,"  said  the  Trapper,  as  he  pointed  with 
his  ramrod  to  a  stain  of  blood  on  one  of  the  hams  of  the  buck. 
"The  bullit  drove  through  his  thigh  here,  but  it  didn't  tech  the 
bone,  and  was  a  sheer  waste  of  lead,  fur  it  only  sot  him  goin' 
like  an  arrer.  Bill,  I  sartinly  doubt,"  continued  the  old  man, 
as  he  measured  the  noble  animal  with  his  eye,  "  I  sartinly 
doubt  ef  I  ever  seed  a  bigger  deer.  There's  seven  prongs  on  his 
horns,  and  I'd  bet  a  horn  of  powder  agin  a  chargerful  that  he'd 
weigh  three  hunderd  pounds  as  he  lies.  Lord  !  what  a  Christ 
mas  gift  he'll  be  fur  the  woman  !  The  skin  will  make  a 
blanket  fit  fur  a  queen  to  sleep  under,  and  the  meat,  jediciously 
cared  fur,  will  last  her  all  winter.  We  must  manage  to  git  it  to 
the  edge  of  the  clearin',  anyhow,  or  the  wolves  might  make  free 
with  our  venison,  Bill.  Yer  sled  is  a  strong  un,  and  it'll  bear 
the  loadin',  ef  ye  go  keerful." 

The  Trapper  and  his  companion  set  themselves  to  their  task 
with  the  energy  of  men  accustomed  to  surmount  every  obstacle, 
and  in  a  short  half-hour  the  sled,  with  its  double  loading, 
stopped  at  the  door  of  the  lonely  cabin. 

"I  don't  understand  this,  Wild  Bill,"  said  the  Trapper. 
"Here  be  a  woman's  tracks  in  the  snow,  and  the  door  be  left  a 
leetle  ajar,  but  there  be  no  smoke  in  the  chimney,  and  they 
sartinly  ain't  very  noisy  inside.  I'll  jest  give  a  knock  or  two, 
and  see  ef  they  be  stirrin';"  and,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word, 
he  knocked  long  and  loud  on  the  large  door.  But  to  his  noisy 
summons  there  came  no  response,  and  without  a  moment  of 
farther  hesitation  he  shoved  open  the  door,  and  entered. 


46  JOHN   NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS. 

"God  of  marcy!  Wild  Bill,"  exclaimed  the  Trapper,  ''look 
in  here." 

A  huge  room  dimly  lighted,  holes  in  the  roof,  here  and  there 
a  heap  of  snow  on  the  floor,  an  immense  fireplace  with  no  fire 
in  it,  and  a  group  of  scared,  wild-looking  children  huddled  to 
gether  in  the  farther  corner,  like  young  and  timid  animals  that 
had  fled  in  affright  from  the  nest  where  they  had  slept,  at  some 
fearful  intrusion.  That  is  what  the  Trapper  saw. 

"I"  —  Whatever  Wild  Bill  was  about  to  say,  his  astonish 
ment,  and,  we  may  add,  his  pity,  were  too  profound  for  him  to 
complete  his  ejaculation. 

"Don't  ye  be  afeerd,  leetle  uns,"  said  the  Trapper,  as  he  ad 
vanced  into  the  center  of  the  room  to  survey  more  fully  the 
wretched  place.  "This  be  Christmas  morn,  and  me  and  Wild 
Bill  and  the  pups  have  come  over  the  mountain  to  wish  ye  all 
a  merry  Christmas.  But  where  be  yer  mother  ? "  queried  the  old 
man,  as  he  looked  kindly  at  the  startled  group. 

"We  don't  know  where  she  is,"  answered  the  older  of  the 
two  girls  ;  "  we  thought  she  was  in  bed  with  us,  till  you  woke 
us.  We  don't  know  where  she  has  gone." 

"  I  have  it,  I  have  it,  Wild  Bill  ! "  exclaimed  the  Trapper, 
whose  eyes  had  been  busy  scanning  the  place  while  talking  with 
the  children.  "The  rifle  be  gone  from  the  hangin's,  and  the 
tracks  in  the  snow  be  hern.  Yis,  yis,  I  see  it  all.  She  went 
out  in  hope  of  gittin'  the  leetle  uns  here  somethin'  to  eat,  and 
that  was  her  rifle  we  heerd,  and  her  bullit  made  that  hole  in 
the  ham  of  the  buck.  What  a  disapp'intment  to  the  poor 


JOHN   NORTON'S   CHRISTMAS.  47 

creetur  when  she  seed  she  hadn't  hit  him !  Her  heart  eena'- 
most  broke,  I  dare  say.  But  the  Lord  was  in  it  —  leastwise,  He 
didn't  go  agin  the  proper  shapin'  of  things  arterwards.  Come, 
Bill,  let's  stir  round  lively,  and  git  the  shanty  in  shape  a  leetle, 
and  some  vict'als  on  the  table  afore  she  comes.  Yis,  git  out 
your  axe,  and  slash  into  that  dead  beech  at  the  corner  of  the 
cabin,  while  I  sorter  clean  up  inside.  A  fire  is  the  fust  thing 
on  sech  a  mornin'  as  this  ;  so  scurry  round,  Bill,  and  bring  in 
the  wood  as  ef  ye  was  a  good  deal  in  'arnest,  and  do  ye  cut  to 
the  measure  of  the  fireplace,  and  don't  waste  yer  time  in  short- 
enin'  it,  fur  the  longer  the  fireplace,  the  longer  the  wood  ;  that 
is,  ef  ye  want  to  make  it  a  heater." 

His  companion  obeyed  with  alacrity;  and  by  the  time  the 
Trapper  had  cleaned  out  the  snow,  and  swept  down  the  soot 
from  the  sides  of  the  fireplace,  and  put  things  partially  to 
rights,  Bill  had  stacked  the  dry  logs  into  the  huge  opening, 
nearly  to  the  upper  jamb,  and,  with  the  help  of  some  large  sheets 
of  birch  bark,  kindled  them  to  a  flame.  "  Come  here,  leetle  uns," 
said  the  Trapper,  as  he  turned  his  good-natured  face  toward 
the  children, —  "  come  here,  and  put  yer  leetle  feet  on  the  h'arth- 
stun,  fur  it's  warmin',  and  I  conceit  yer  toes  be  about  freezin'." 

It  was  not  in  the  power  of  children  to  withstand  the  attrac 
tion  of  such  an  invitation,  extended  with  such  a  hearty  voice 
and  such  benevolence  of  feature.  The  children  came  promptly 
forward,  and  stood  in  a  row  on  the  great  stone,  and  warmed 
their  little  shivering  bodies  by  the  abundant  flames. 

"Now,    leetle  folks,"  said  the   Trapper,    "jest   git    yerselves 


48  JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS. 

well  warmed,  then  git  on  what  clothes  ye've  got,  and  we'll 
have  some  breakfast, —  vis,  we'll  have  breakfast  ready  by  the 
time  yer  mother  gits  back,  fur  I  know  where  she  be  gone,  and 
she'll  be  hungry  and  cold  when  she  gits  in.  I  don't  conceit 
that  this  leetle  chap  here  can  help  much,  but  ye  girls  be  big 
enough  to  help  a  good  deal.  So,  when  ye  be  warm,  do  ye  put 
away  the  bed  to  the  furderest  corner,  and  shove  out  the  table 
in  front  of  the  fire,  and  put  on  the  dishes,  sech  as  ye  have, 
and  be  smart  about  it,  too,  fur  yer  mother  will  sartinly  be 
comin'  soon,  and  we  must  be  ahead  of  her  with  the  cookinV 

What  a  change  the  next  half -hour  made  in  the  appearance 
of  the  cabin  !  The  huge  fire  sent  its  heat  to  the  farthest  corner 
of  the  great  room.  The  miserable  bed  had  been  removed  out  of 
sight,  and  the  table,  drawn  up  in  front  of  the  fire,  was  set  with 
the  needed  dishes.  On  the  hearthstone  a  large  platter  of  veni 
son  steak,  broiled  by  the  Trappers  skill,  simmered  in  the  heat. 
A  mighty  pile  of  cakes,  brown  to  a  turn,  flanked  one  side, 
while  a  stack  of  potatoes  baked  in  the  ashes  supported  the 
other.  The  teapot  sent  forth  its  refreshing  odor  through  the 
room.  The  children,  with  their  faces  washed  and  hair  partially, 
at  least,  combed,  ran  about  with  bare  feet  on  the  warm  floor, 
comfortable  and  happy.  To  them  it  was  as  a  beautiful  dream. 
The  breakfast  was  ready,  and  the  visitors  sat  waiting  for  the 
coming  of  her  to  whose  assistance  the  angel  of  Christmas  Eve 
had  sent  them. 

"Sh!"  whispered  the  Trapper,  whose  quick  ear  had  caught 
the  sound  of  a  dragging  step  in  the  snow.  "She's  comin'  !" 


JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS.  49 

Too  weary  and  faint,  too  sick  at  heart  and  exhausted  in 
body  to  observe  the  unaccustomed  signs  of  human  presence 
around  her  dwelling,  the  poor  woman  dragged  herself  to  the  door, 
and  opened  it.  The  gun  she  still  held  in  her  hand  fell  rattling 
to  the  floor,  and,  with  eyes  wildly  opened,  she  gazed  bewildered 
at  the  spectacle.  The  blazing  fire,  the  set  table,  the  food  on 
the  hearthstone,  the  smiling  children,  the  two  men  !  She  passed 
her  hands  across  her  eyes  as  one  waking  from  sleep.  Was  she 
dreaming  ?  Was  this  cabin  the  miserable  hut  she  had  left  at 
daybreak  ?  Was  that  the  same  fireplace  in  front  of  whose  cold 
and  cheerless  recess  she  had  crouched  the  night  before  ?  And 
were  those  two  strangers  there  men,  or  were  they  angels  ? 
Was  what  she  saw  real,  or  was  it  only  a  fevered  vision  born  of 
her  weakness  ? 

Her  senses  actually  reeled  to  and  fro,  and  she  trembled  for 
a  moment  on  the  verge  of  unconsciousness.  Indeed,  the  shock 
was  so  overwhelming  that  in  another  instant  she  would  have 
swooned  and  fallen  to  the  floor  had  not  the  growing  faintness 
been  checked  by  the  sound  of  a  human  voice. 

"A  merry  Christmas  to  ye,  my  good  woman,"  said  the  Trap 
per.  "A  merry  Christmas  to  ye  and  yourn !  " 

The  woman  started  as  the  hearty  tones  fell  on  her  ear,  and, 
steadying  herself  by  the  door,  she  said,  speaking  as  one  par 
tially  dazed  :  — 

"Are  you  John  Norton  the  Trapper,  or  are  you  an  ang  — " 

"Ye  needn't  sight  agin,"  interrupted  the  old  man.  "Yis,  I'm 
old  John  Norton  himself,  nothin'  better  and  nothin'  wuss ;  and 

4 


50  JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS. 

the  man  in  the  chair  here  by  my  side  is  Wild  Bill,  and  ye 
couldn't  make  an  angel  out  of  him,  ef  ye  tried  from  now  till 
next  Christmas.  Yis,  my  good  woman,  I'm  John  Norton,  and 
this  is  Wild  Bill,  and  we've  come  over  the  mountain  to  wish  ye 
a  merry  Christmas,  ye  and  yer  leetle  uns,  and  help  ye  keep  the 
day  ;  and,  ye  see,  we've  been  stirrin'  a  leetle  in  yer  absence, 
and  breakfast  be  waitin'.  Wild  Bill  and  me  will  jest  go  out 
and  cut  a  leetle  more  wood,  while  ye  warm  and  wash  yerself  ; 
and  when  ye  be  ready  to  eat,  ye  may  call  us,  and  we'll  see 
which  can  git  into  the  house  fust." 

So  saying  the  Trapper,  followed  by  his  companion,  passed  out 
of  the  door,  while  the  poor  woman,  without  a  word,  moved  to 
ward  the  fire,  and,  casting  one  look  at  her  children,  at  the 
table,  at  the  food  on  the  hearthstone,  dropped  on  her  knees  by 
a  chair,  and  buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"  I  say,"  said  Wild  Bill  to  the  Trapper,  as  he  crept  softly 
away  from  the  door,  to  which  he  had  returned  to  shut  it  more 
closely,  "I  say,  John  Norton,  the  woman  is  on  her  knees  by  a 
chair." 

"Very  likely,  very  likely,"  returned  the  old  man  reverently; 
and  then  he  began  to  chop  vigorously  at  a  huge  log,  with  his 
back  toward  his  comrade. 

Perhaps  some  of  you  who  read  this  tale  will  come  sometime, 
when  weary  and  heart-sick,  to  something  drearier  than  an 
empty  house,  some  bleak,  cold  day,  some  lonely  morn,  and  with 
a  starving  heart  and  benumbed  soul, —  ay,  and  empty-handed, 
too, —  enter  in  only  to  find  it  swept  and  garnished,  and  what 


JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS.  51 

you  most  needed  and  longed  for  waiting  for  you.  Then  will 
you,  too,  drop  upon  your  knees,  and  cover  your  face  with  your 
hands,  ashamed  that  you  had  murmured  against  the  hardness 
of  your  lot,  or  forgotten  the  goodness  of  Him  who  suffered  you 
to  be  tried  only  that  you  might  more  fully  appreciate  the 
triumph. 

"  My  good  woman,"  said  the  Trapper,  when  the  breakfast 
was  eaten,  "we've  come,  as  we  said,  to  spend  the  day  with 
ye  ;  and  accordin'  to  custom  —  and  a  pleasant  un  it  be  fur  sar- 
tin  —  we've  brought  ye  some  presents.  A  good  many  of  them 
come  from  him  who  called  on  ye  as  he  and  me  passed  through 
the  lake  last  fall.  I  dare  say  ye  remember  him,  and  he  sartinly 
has  remembered  ye.  Fur  last  evenin',  when  I  was  makin'  up  a 
leetle  pack  to  bring  ye  myself, —  fur  I  conceited  I  had  better 
come  over  and  spend  the  day  with  ye, —  Wild  Bill  came  to  my 
door  with  a  box  on  his  sled  that  the  boy  had  sent  in  from  his 
home  in  the  city ;  and  in  the  box  he  had  put  a  great  many 
presents  fur  him  and  me  ;  and  in  the  lower  half  of  the  box  he 
had  put  a  good  many  presents  fur  ye  and  yer  leetle  uns,  and 
we've  brought  them  all  over  with  us.  Some  of  the  things  be 
fur  eatin'  and  some  of  them  be  fur  wearin'  ;  and  that  there  may 
be  no  misunderstandin',  I  would  say  that  all  the  things  that  be 
in  the  pack-basket  there,  and  all  the  things  that  be  on  the  sled, 
too,  belong  to  ye.  And  as  I  see  the  wood-pile  isn't  a  very  big 
un  fur  this  time  of  the  year,  Bill  and  me  be  goin'  out  to  settle 
our  breakfast  a  leetle  with  the  axes.  And  while  we  be  gone,  I 
conceit  ye  had  better  rummage  the  things  over,  and  them  that 


52  JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS. 

be  good  fur  eatin'  ye  had  better  put  in  the  cupboard,  and 
them  that  be  good  fur  wearin'  ye  had  better  put  on  yerself  and 
yer  leetle  uns  ;  and  then  we'll  all  be  ready  to  make  a  fair  start. 
Fur  this  be  Christmas  Day,  and  we  be  goin'  to  keep  it  as  it 
orter  be  kept.  Ef  we've  had  sorrers,  we'll  forgit  'em  ;  and  we'll 
laugh,  and  eat,  and  be  merry.  Fur  this  be  Christmas,  my  good 
woman  !  children,  this  be  Christmas  !  Wild  Bill,  my  boy,  this  be 
Christmas  ;  and,  pups,  this  be  Christmas  !  And  we'll  all  laugh, 
and  eat,  and  be  merry." 

The  joyfulness  of  the  old  man  was  contagious.  His  happi 
ness  flowed  over  as  waters  flow  over  the  rim  of  a  fountain. 
Wild  Bill  laughed  as  he  seized  his  axe,  the  woman  rose  from 
the  table  smiling,  the  girls  giggled,  the  little  boy  stamped, 
and  the  hounds,  catching  the  spirit  of  their  merry  master, 
swung  their  tails  round,  and  bayed  in  canine  gladness ;  and 
amid  the  joyful  uproar  the  Old  Trapper  spun  himself  out  of 
the  door,  and  chased  Wild  Bill  through  the  snow  like  a  boy. 

The  dinner  was  to  be  served  at  two  o'clock ;  and  what  a 
dinner  it  was,  and  what  preparations  preceded  !  The  snow 
had  been  shoveled  from  around  the  cabin,  the  holes  in  the  roof 
roughly  but  effectually  thatched.  A  good  pile  of  wood  was 
stacked  in  front  of  the  doorway.  The  spring  that  bubbled  from 
the  bank  had  been  cleared  of  ice,  and  a  protection  constructed 
over  it.  The  huge  buck  had  been  dressed,  and  hung  high  above 
the  reach  of  wolves.  Cedar  and  balsam  branches  had  been 
placed  in  the  corners  and  along  the  sides  of  the  room.  Great 
sprays  of  the  tasseled  pine  and  the  feathery  tamarack  were 


JOHN   NORTON'S   CHRISTMAS.  53 

suspended  from  the  ceiling.  The  table  had  been  enlarged,  and 
extra  seats  extemporized.  The  long-unused  oven  had  been 
cleaned  out,  and  under  its  vast  dome  the  red  flames  flashed 
and  rolled  upward.  What  a  change  a  few  hours  had  brought 
to  that  lonely  cabin  and  its  wretched  inmates  !  The  woman, 
dressed  in  her  new  garments,  her  hair  smoothly  combed,  her 
face  lighted  with  smiles,  looked  positively  comely.  The  girls, 
happy  in  their  fine  clothes  and  marvelous  toys,  danced  round 
the  room,  wild  with  delight ;  while  the  little  boy  strutted  about 
the  floor  in  his  new  boots,  proudly  showing  them  to  each  per 
son  for  the  hundredth  time. 

The  hostess's  attention  was  equally  divided  between  the 
temperature  of  the  oven  and  the  adornment  of  the  table.  A 
snow-white  sheet,  one  of  a  dozen  she  had  found  in  the  box, 
was  drafted  peremptorily  into  service,  and  did  duty  as  a  table 
cloth.  Oh,  the  innocent  and  funny  makeshifts  of  poverty,  and 
the  goodly  distance  it  can  make  a  little  go  !  Perhaps  some  of 
us,  as  we  stand  in  our  rich  dining  rooms,  and  gaze  with  pride 
at  the  silver,  the  gold,  the  cut  glass,  and  the  transparent  china, 
can  recall  a  little  kitchen  in  a  homely  house  far  away,  where 
our  good  mothers  once  set  their  tables  for  their  guests,  and 
what  a  brave  show  the  few  extra  dishes  made  when  they 
brought  them  out  on  the  rare  festive  days. 

However  it  might  strike  you,  fair  reader,  to  the  poor  woman 
and  her  guests  there  was  nothing  incongruous  in  a  sheet  serv 
ing  as  a  tablecloth.  Was  it  not  white  and  clean  and  properly 
shaped,  and  would  it  not  have  been  a  tablecloth  if  it  hadn't 


54  JOHN   NORTON'S   CHRISTMAS. 

been  a  sheet  ?  How  very  nice  and  particular  some  people  can 
be  over  the  trifling  matter  of  a  name  !  And  this  sheet  had  no 
right  to  be  a  sheet,  since  any  one  with  half  an  eye  could  see  at 
a  glance  that  it  was  predestined  from  the  first  to  be  a  tablecloth, 
for  it  sat  as  smoothly  on  the  wooden  surface  as  pious  looks  on  a 
deacon's  face,  while  the  easy  and  nonchalant  way  it  draped  itself 
at  the  corners  was  perfectly  jaunty. 

The  edges  of  this  square  of  white  sheeting  that  had  thus 
providentially  found  its  true  and  predestined  use  were  orna 
mented  with  the  leaves  of  the  wild  myrtle,  stitched  on  in  the 
form  of  scallops.  In  the  center,  with  a  brave  show  of  artistic 
skill,  were  the  words,  "  Merry  Christmas,''  prettily  worked  with 
the  small  brown  cones  of  the  pines.  This,  the  joint  product  of 
Wild  Bill's  industry  and  the  woman's  taste,  commanded  the 
enthusiastic  admiration  of  all ;  and  even  the  little  boy,  from  the 
height  of  a  chair  into  which  he  had  climbed,  was  profoundly 
affected  by  the  show  it  made. 

The  Trapper  had  charge  of  the  meat  department,  and  it  is 
safe  to  say  that  no  Delmonico  could  undertake  to  serve  venison 
in  greater  variety  than  did  he.  To  him  it  was  a  grand  occasion, 
and  —  in  a  culinary  sense  —  he  rose  grandly  to  meet  it.  What 
bosom  is  without  its  little  vanities  ?  and  shall  we  laugh  at  the 
dear  old  man  because  he  looked  upon  the  opportunity  before 
him  with  feeling  other  than  pure  benevolence,  —  even  of  com 
placency  that  what  he  was  doing  was  being  done  as  no  one 
else  could  do  it  ? 

There  was  venison  roasted,  and  venison  broiled,  and  venison 


JOHN   NORTON'S   CHRISTMAS.  55 

fried ;  there  was  hashed  venison,  and  venison  spitted  ;  there  was 

*> 
a   side-dish   of  venison   sausage,  strong  with   the  odor  of  sage, 

and  slightly  dashed  with  wild  thyme  ;  and  a  huge  kettle  of 
soup,  on  whose  rich  creamy  surface  pieces  of  bread  and  here 
and  there  a  slice  of  potato  floated. 

"  I  tell  ye,  Bill,"  said  the  Trapper  to  his  companion,  as  he 
stirred  the  soup  with  a  long  ladle,  "this  pot  isn't  act'ally  runnin' 
over  with  taters,  but  ye  can  see  a  bit  occasionally  ef  ye  look 
sharp  and  keep  the  ladle  goin'  round  pretty  lively.  No,  the 
taters  ain't  over  plenty,"  continued  the  old  man,  peering  into 
the  pot,  and  sinking  his  voice  to  a  whisper,  "but  there  wasn't 
but  fifteen  in  the  bag,  and  the  woman  took  twelve  of  'em  fur 
her  kittle,  and  ye  can't  make  three  taters  look  act'ally  crowded 
in  two  gallons  of  soup,  can  ye,  Bill  ? "  And  the  old  man 
punched  that  personage  in  the  ribs  with  the  thumb  of  the  hand 
that  was  free  from  service,  while  he  kept  the  ladle  going  with 
the  other. 

"•Lord!"  exclaimed  the  Trapper,  speaking  to  Bill,  who,  hav 
ing  taken  a  look  into  the  old  man's  kettle,  was  digging  his 
knuckles  into  his  eyes  to  free  them  from  the  spray  that  was  jet 
ted  into  them  from  the  fountains  of  mirth  within  that  were  now 
in  full  play,  — "Lord  !  ef  there  isn't  another  piece  of  tater  gone 
all  to  pieces !  Bill,  ef  I  make  another  circle  with  this  ladle, 
there  won't  be  a  whole  slice  left,  and  ye'll  swear  there  wasn't 
a  tater  in  the  soup."  And  the  two  men,  with  their  faces  within 
twenty  inches,  laughed  and  laughed  like  boys. 

How  sweet  it  is  to   think  that  when   the   Maker   set  up  this 


56  JOHN   NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS. 

strange  instrument  we  call  ourselves,  and  strung  it  for  service, 
He  selected  of  the  heavy  chords  so  few,  and  of  the  lighter  ones 
so  many  !  Some  muffled  ones  there  are ;  some  slow  and  solemn 
sounds  swell  sadly  forth  at  intervals,  but  blessed  be  God  that  we 
are  so  easily  tickled,  and  the  world  is  so  funny  that  within  it, 
even  when  exiled  from  home  and  friends,  we  find,  as  the  days 
come  and  go,  the  causes  and  occasions  of  hilarity  ! 

Wild  Bill  had  been  placed  in  charge  of  the  liquids.  What  a 
satire  there  is  in  circumstances,  and  how  those  of  to-day  laugh 
at  those  of  yesterday  !  Yes,  Wild  Bill  had  charge  of  the  liquids, 
—  no  mean  charge,  when  the  occasion  is  considered.  Nor  was 
the  position  without  its  embarrassments,  as  few  honorable  posi 
tions  are,  for  it  brought  him  face  to  face  with  the  problem  of 
the  day  —  dishes ;  for,  between  the  two  cooks  of  the  occasion, 
every  dish  in  the  cabin  had  been  brought  into  requisition,  and 
poor  Bill  was  left  in  the  predicament  of  having  to  make  tea 
and  coffee  with  no  pots  to  make  them  in. 

But  Bill  was  not  lacking  in  wit,  if  he  was  in  pots,  and  he 
solved  the  conundrum  how  to  make  tea  without  a  teapot  in  a 
manner  that  extorted  the  woman's  laughter,  and  commanded 
the  Old  Trapper's  admiration. 

In  ransacking  the  lofts  above  the  apartment,  he  had  lighted 
on  several  large  stone  jugs,  which,  with  the  courage  —  shall  we 
call  it  the  audacity  ?  —  of  genius,  he  had  seized  upon  ;  and, 
having  thoroughly  rinsed  them,  and  freed  them  from  certain 
odors, —  with  which  we  are  free  to  say  Bill  was  more  or  less  fa 
miliar, —  he  brought  them  forward  as  substitutes  for  kettle  and 


JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS.  57 

pot.  Indeed,  they  worked  admirably,  for  in  them  the  berry  and 
the  leaves  might  not  only  be  properly  steeped,  but  the  flavor 
could  be  retained  beyond  what  it  might  in  many  of  our  famous 
and  high-sounding  patented  articles. 

But  Bill,  while  ingenious  and  courageous  to  the  last  degree, 
was  lacking  in  education,  especially  in  scientific  directions.  He 
had  never  been  made  acquainted  with  that  great  promoter  of 
modern  civilization  —  the  expansive  properties  of  steam.  The 
corks  he  had  whittled  out  for  his  bravely  extemporized  tea  and 
coffee  pots  were  of  the  closest  fit ;  and,  as  they  had  been  in 
serted  with  the  energy  of  a  man  who,  having  conquered  a  seri 
ous  difficulty,  is  determined  to  reap  the  full  benefit  of  his  triumph, 
there  was  at  least  no  danger  that  the  flavor  of  the  concoctions 
would  escape  through  any  leakage  at  the  muzzle.  Having  thus 
prepared  them  for  steeping,  he  placed  the  jugs  in  his  corner  of 
the  fireplace,  and  pushed  them  well  up  through  the  ashes  to  the 
live  coals. 

"  Wild  Bill,"  said  the  Trapper,  who  wished  to  give  his  com 
panion  the  needed  warning  in  as  delicate  and  easy  a  manner  as 
possible,  "Wild  Bill,  ye  have  sartinly  got  the  right  idee  techin' 
the  makin'  of  tea  and  coffee,  fur  the  yarb  should  be  steeped, 
and  the  berry,  too, —  leastwise,  arter  it's  biled  up  once  or  twice, 
—  and  therefore  it  be  only  reasonable  that  the  nozzles  should 
be  closed  moderately  tight ;  but  a  man  wants  considerable  experi 
ence  in  the  business,  or  he's  likely  to  overdo  it  jest  a  leetle,  and 
ef  ye  don't  cut  some  slots  in  them  wooden  corks  ye've  driven 
into  them  nozzles,  Bill,  there'll  be  a  good  deal  of  tea  and  coffee 


58  JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS. 

floatin'  round  in  yer  corner  of  the  fireplace  afore  many  minits, 
and  I  conceit  there'll  be  a  man  about  yer  size  lookin'  fur  a 
couple  of  corks  and  pieces  of  jugs  out  there  in  the  clearing 
too." 

"Do  you  think  so? "answered  Bill,  incredulously.  "Don't 
you  be  scared,  old  man,  but  keep  on  stirring  your  soup  and 
turning  the  meat,  and  I'll  keep  my  eye  on  the  bottles." 

"That's  right,  Bill,"  returned  the  Trapper;  "ye  keep  yer  eye 
right  on  'em,  specially  on  that  un  that's  furderest  in  toward  the 
butt  of  the  beech  log  there ;  fur  ef  there's  any  vartue  in  signs,  that 
jug  be  gittin'  oneasy.  Yis,"  continued  the  old  man,  after  a 
minute's  pause,  during  which  his  eye  hadn't  left  the  jug,  "  yis, 
that  jug  will  want  more  room  afore  many  minits,  ef  I'm  any 
jedge,  and  I  conceit  I  had  better  give  it  the  biggest  part  of  the 
fireplace  ; "  and  the  Trapper  hastily  moved  the  soup  and  his 
half-dozen  plates  of  .cooked  meats  to  the  other  end  of  the  hearth 
stone,  whither  he  retired  himself,  like  one  who,  feeling  that  he 
is  called  upon  to  contend  with  unknown  forces,  wisely  beats  a 
retreat.  He  even  put  himself  behind  a  stack  of  wood  that  lay 
piled  up  in  his  corner,  like  one  who  does  not  despise,  in  a 
sudden  emergency,  an  artificial  protection. 

"Bill,"  called  the  Trapper,  "edge  round  a  leetle,  —  edge 
round,  and  git  in  closer  to  the  jamb.  It's  sheer  foolishness 
standin'  where  ye  be,  fur  the  water  will  be  wallopin'  in  a  minit, 
and  ef  the  corks  be  swelled  in  the  nozzle,  there'll  be  an  ex 
plosion.  Git  in  toward  the  jamb,  and  watch  the  ambushment 
under  kiver." 


.JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS.  59 

"  Old  man/'  answered  Bill,  as  he  turned  his  back  carelessly 
toward  the  fireplace,  ' '  I've  got  the  bearin's  of  this  trail,  and 
know  what  I'm  about.  The  jugs  are  as  strong  as  iron  kittles, 
and  I  ain't  afraid  of  their  bust — " 

Bill  never  finished  the  sentence,  for  the  explosion  predicted 
by  the  Trapper  occurred.  It  was  a  tremendous  one,  and  the 
huge  fireplace  was  filled  with  flying  brands,  ashes,  and  clouds 
of  steam.  The  Trapper  ducked  his  head,  the  woman  screamed, 
and  the  hounds  rushed  howling  to  the  farthest  end  of  the  room  ; 
while  Bill,  with  half  a  somersault,  disappeared  under  the  table. 

"Hurrah  !"  shouted  the  Trapper,  lifting  his  head  from  behind 
the  wood,  and  critically  surveying  the  scene.  ''Hurrah,  Bill!" 
he  shouted,  as  he  swung  the  ladle  over  his  head.  "  Come  out 
from  under  the  table,  and  man  yer  battery  agin.  Yer  old  mor 
tars  was  loaded  to  the  muzzle,  and  ef  ye  had  depressed  the 
pieces  a  leetle,  ye'd  'a'  blowed  the  cabin  to  splinters  ;  as  it  was, 
the  chimney  got  the  biggest  part  of  the  chargin',  and  ye'll  find 
yer  rammers  on  the  other  side  of  the  mountain." 

It  was,  in  truth,  a  scene  of  uproarious  hilarity  ;  for  once  the 
explosion  was  over,  and  the  woman  and  children  saw  there  was 
no  danger,  and  apprehended  the  character  of  the  performance, 
they  joined  unrestrainedly  in  the  Trapper's  laughter,  in  which 
they  were  assisted  by  Wild  Bill,  as  if  he  were  not  the  victim 
of  his  own  over-confidence. 

"I  say,  Old  Trapper,"  he  called  from  under  the  table,  "did 
both  guns  go  off  ?  I  was  getting  under  cover  when  the  battery 
opened,  and  didn't  notice  whether  the  firing  was  in  sections  or 


60  JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS. 

along  the  whole  line.  If  there's  a  piece  left,  I  think  I  will  stay 
where  I  am ;  for  I  am  in  a  good  position  to  observe  the  range, 
and  watch  the  effect  of  the  shot.  I  say,  hadn't  you  better  get 
behind  the  wood-pile  again  ?  " 

"No,  no,"  interrupted  the  Trapper;  ''the  whole  battery  went 
at  the  word,  Bill,  and  there  isn't  a  gun  or  a  gun-carriage  left 
in  the  casement.  Ye've  wasted  a  gill  of  the  yarb,  and  a  quarter 
of  a  pound  of  the  berry  ;  and  ye  must  hurry  up  with  another 
outfit  of  bottles,  or  we'll  have  nothin'  but  water  to  drink  at  the 
dinner." 

The  dinner !  That  great  event  of  the  day,  the  crown  and 
diadem  to  its  royalty,  and  which  became  it  so  well,  was  ready 
promptly  to  the  hour.  The  table,  enlarged  as  it  was  to  nearly 
double  its  original  dimensions,  could  scarcely  accommodate  the 
abundance  of  the  feast.  Ah,  if  some  sweet  power  would  only 
enlarge  our  hearts  when,  on  festive  days,  we  enlarge  our  tables, 
how  many  of  the  world's  poor,  that  now  go  hungry  while  we 
feast,  would  then  be  fed  ! 

At  one  end  of  the  table  sat  the  Trapper,  Wild  Bill  at  the 
other.  The  woman's  chair  was  at  the  center  of  one  of  the 
sides,  so  that  she  sat  facing  the  fire,  whose  generous  flames 
might  well  symbolize  the  abundance  which  amid  cold  and 
hunger  had  so  suddenly  come  to  her.  On  her  right  hand  the 
two  girls  sat ;  on  her  left,  the  boy.  A  goodly  table,  a  goodly 
fire,  and  a  goodly  company, —  what  more  could  the  Angel  of 
Christmas  ask  to  see  ? 

Thus  were  they  seated,  ready  to  begin  the   repast ;  but   the 


JOHN   NORTON'S   CHRISTMAS.  61 

plates  remained  untouched,  and  the  happy  noises  which  had  to 
that  moment  filled  the  cabin  ceased ;  for  the  Angel  of  Silence, 
with  noiseless  step,  had  suddenly  entered  the  room.  There's  a 
silence  of  grief,  there's  a  silence  of  hatred,  there's  a  silence  of 
dread ;  of  these,  men  may  speak,  and  these  they  can  describe. 
But  the  silence  of  our  happiness,  who  can  describe  that  ?  When 
the  heart  is  full,  when  the  long  longing  is  suddenly  met,  when 
love  gives  to  love  abundantly,  when  the  soul  lacketh  nothing 
and  is  content, —  then  language  is  useless,  and  the  Angel  of 
Silence  becomes  our  only  adequate  interpreter.  A  humble  table, 
surely,  and  humble  folk  around  it ;  but  not  in  the  houses  of  the 
rich  or  the  palaces  of  kings  does  gratitude  find  her  only  home, 
but  in  more  lowly  abodes  and  with  lowly  folk  —  ay,  and  often 
at  the  scant  table,  too, —  she  sitteth  a  perpetual  guest.  Was  it 
memory  ?  Did  the  Trapper  at  that  brief  moment  visit  his  absent 
friend  ?  Did  Wild  Bill  recall  his  wayward  past  ?  Were  the 
thoughts  of  the  woman  busy  with  sweet  scenes  of  earlier  days  ? 
And  did  memory,  by  thus  reminding  them  of  the  absent  and 
the  past,  of  the  sweet  things  that  had  been  and  were,  stir 
within  their  hearts  thoughts  of  Him  from  whom  all  gifts  de 
scend,  and  of  His  blessed  Son,  in  whose  honor  the  day  was 
named  ? 

O  Memory  !  thou  tuneful  bell  that  ringeth  on  forever,  friend 
at  our  feasts,  and  friend,  too,  let  us  call  thee,  at  our  burial, 
what  music  can  equal  thine  ?  For  in  thy  mystic  globe  all  tunes 
abide,  —  the  birthday  note  for  kings,  the  marriage  peal,  the 
funeral  knell,  the  gleeful  jingle  of  merry  mirth,  and  those  sweet 


62  JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS. 

chimes  that  float  our  thoughts,  like  fragrant  ships  upon  a  fra 
grant  sea,  toward  heaven,  —  all  are  thine  !  Ring  on,  thou  tune 
ful  bell ;  ring  on,  while  these  glad  ears  may  drink  thy  melody ; 
and  when  thy  chimes  are  heard  by  me  no  more,  ring  loud  and 
clear  above  my  grave  that  peal  which  echoes  to  the  heavens, 
and  tells  the  world  of  immortality,  that  they  who  come  to 
mourn  may  check  their  tears  and  say,  "  Why  do  we  weep?  He 
liveth  still ! " 

"The  Lord  be  praised  fur  His  goodness!''  said  the  Trapper, 
whose  thoughts  unconsciously  broke  into  speech.  "  The  Lord 
be  praised  fur  His  goodness,  and  make  us  grateful  fur  His  past 
inarcies,  and  the  plenty  that  be  here  ! "  And  looking  down  upon 
the  viands  spread  before  him  he  added,  "The  Lord  be  good  to 
the  boy,  and  make  him  as  happy  in  his  city  home  as  be  they 
who  be  wearin'  and  eatin'  his  gifts  in  the  woods  ! " 

* '  Amen  ! "  said  the  woman  softly,  and  a  grateful  tear  fell  on 
her  plate. 

"A — hem!"  said  Wild  Bill;  and  then  looking  down  upon  his 
warm  suit,  he  lifted  his  voice,  and,  bringing  it  out  in  a  clear, 
strong  tone,  said,  "Amen!  hit  or  miss!'' 

At  many  a  table  that  day  more  formal  grace  was  said,  by 
priest  and  layman  alike,  and  at  many  a  table,  by  lips  of  old  and 
young,  response  was  given  to  the  benediction  ;  but  we  doubt  if 
over  all  the  earth  a  more  honest  grace  was  said  or  more  honestly 
assented  to  than  the  Lord  heard  from  the  cabin  in  the  woods. 

The  feast  and  the  merrymaking  now  began.  The  Old  Trap 
per  was  in  his  best  mood,  and  fairly  bubbled  over  with  humor. 


JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS.  64 

The  wit  of  Wild  Bill  was  naturally  keen,  and  it  flashed  at  its 
best  as  he  ate.  The  children  stuffed  and  laughed  as  only  chil 
dren  on  such  an  elastic  occasion  can.  And  as  for  the  poor  wo 
man,  it  was  impossible  for  her,  in  the  midst  of  such  a  scene, 
to  be  otherwise  than  happy,  and  she  joined  modestly  in  the  con 
versation,  and  laughed  heartily  at  the  witty  sallies. 

But  why  should  we  strive  to  put  on  paper  the  wise,  the  funny, 
and  the  pleasant  things  that  were  said,  the  exclamations,  the 
laughter,  the  story,  the  joke,  the  verbal  thrust  and  parry  of 
such  an  occasion  ?  These,  springing  from  the  center  of  the  cir 
cumstance,  and  flashed  into  being  at  the  instant,  cannot  be 
preserved  for  after-rehearsal.  Like  the  effervescence  of  cham 
pagne,  they  jet  and  are  gone  ;  their  force  passes  away  with  the 
noise  that  accompanied  its  out-coming. 

Is  it  not  enough  to  record  that  the  dinner  was  a  success, 
that  the  Trapper's  meats  were  put  upon  the  table  in  a  manner 
worthy  of  his  reputation,  that  the  woman's  efforts  at  pastry- 
making  were  generously  applauded,  and  that  Wild  Bill's  tea 
and  coffee  were  pronounced  by  the  hostess  the  best  she  had 
ever  tasted  ?  Perhaps  no  meal  was  ever  more  enjoyed,  as  cer 
tainly  none  was  ever  more  heartily  eaten. 

The  wonder  and  pride  of  the  table  was  the  pudding,  —  a 
creation  of  Indian  meal,  flour,  suet,  and  raisins,  re-enforced  and 
assisted  by  innumerable  spicy  elements  supposed  to  be  too  mys 
terious  to  be  grasped  by  the  masculine  mind.  In  the  production 
of  this  wonderful  centerpiece,  —  for  it  had  been  unanimously 
voted  the  place  of  honor,  —  the  poor  woman  had  summoned  all 


64  JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS. 

the  latent  resources  of  her  skill,  and  in  reference  to  it  her  pride 
and  fear  contended,  while  the  anxiety  with  which  she  rose  to 
serve  it  was  only  too  plainly  depicted  on  her  countenance, 
What  if  it  should  prove  a  failure  ?  What  if  she  had  made  a 
miscalculation  as  to  the  amount  of  suet  required,  —  a  point  upon 
which  she  had  been  somewhat  confused  ?  What  if  the  raisins 
were  not  sufficiently  distributed?  What  if  it  wasn't  done 
through,  and  should  turn  out  pasty  ?  Great  Heavens  !  The  last 
thought  was  of  so  overwhelming  a  character  that  no  feminine 
courage  could  encounter  it.  Who  may  describe  the  look  with 
which  she  watched  the  Trapper  as  he  tasted  it,  or  the  expres 
sion  of  relief  which  brightened  her  anxious  face  when  he  pro 
nounced  warmly  in  its  favor  ? 

"It's  a  wonderful  bit  of  cookin',''  he  said,  addressing  him 
self  to  Wild  Bill,  "  and  I  sartinly  doubt  ef  there  be  any  thin'  in 
the  settlements  to-day  that  can  equal  it.  There  be  jest  enough 
of  the  suet,  and  there  be  a  plum  for  every  mouthful  ;  and  it 
be  solid  enough  to  stay  in  the  mouth  ontil  ye've  had  time  to 
chew  it,  and  git  a  taste  of  the  corn, —  and  I  wouldn't  give  a  cent 
for  a  puddin'  ef  it  gits  away  from  yer  teeth  fast.  Yis,  it  be  a 
wonderful  bit  of  cookin',"  and,  turning  to  the  woman,  he  added, 
"  ye  may  well  be  proud  of  it." 

What  higher  praise  could  be  bestowed  ?  And  as  it  was  re 
echoed  by  all  present,  and  plate  after  plate  was  passed  for  a 
second  filling,  the  dinner  came  to  an  end  with  the  greatest  good 
feeling  and  hilarity. 


JOHN   NORTON'S   CHRISTMAS.  65 

IV. 

"Now  fur  the  sled!"  exclaimed  the  Trapper,  as  he  rose  from 
the  table.  "It  be  a  good  many  years  since  I've  straddled  one, 
but  nothhr  settles  a  dinner  quicker,  or  suits  the  leetle  folks  bet 
ter.  I  conceit  the  crust  be  thick  enough  to  bear  us  up,  and,  ef 
it  is,  we  can  fetch  a  course  from  the  upper  edge  of  the  clearin' 
fifty  rods  into  the  lake.  Come,  childun,  git  on  yer  mittens 
and  yer  tippets,  and  h'ist  along  to  the  big  pine,  and  ye  shall 
have  some  fun  ye  won't  forgit  ontil  yer  heads  be  whiter  than 
mine." 

It  is  needless  to  record  that  the  children  hailed  with  delight 
the  proposition  of  the  Trapper,  or  that  they  were  at  the  ap 
pointed  spot  long  before  the  speaker  and  his  companion  reached 
it  with  the  sled. 

"Wild  Bill,"  said  the  Trapper,  as  they  stood  on  the  crest  of 
the  slope  down  which  they  were  to  glide,  "the  crust  be  smooth 
as  glass,  and  the  hill  be  a  steep  un.  I  sartinly  doubt  ef  mortal 
man  ever  rode  faster  than  this  sled'll  be  goin'  by  the  time  it 
gits  to  where  the  bank  pitches  into  the  lake  ;  and  ef  ye  should 
git  a  leetle  careless  in  yer  steerin",  Bill,  and  hit  a  stump,  I  con 
ceit  that  nothin'  but  the  help  of  the  Lord  or  the  rottenness  of 
the  stump  would  save  ye  from  etarnity." 

Now,  Wild  Bill  was  blessed  with  a  sanguine  temperament. 
To  him  no  obstacle  seemed  serious  if  bravely  faced.  Indeed,  his 
natural  confidence  in  himself  bordered  on  recklessness,  to 
which  the  drinking  habits  of  his  life  had,  perhaps,  contributed. 

5 


66  JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS. 

When  the  Trapper  had  finished  speaking,  Bill  ran  his  eye 
carelessly  down  the  steep  hillside,  smooth  and  shiny  as  polished 
steel,  and  said,  "  Oh,  this  isn't  anything  extry  for  a  hill.  I've 
steered  a  good  many  steeper  ones,  and  in  nights  when  the 
moon  was  at  the  half,  and  the  sled  overloaded  at  that.  It  don't 
make  any  difference  how  fast  you  go,"  he  added,  "if  you  only 
keep  in  the  path,  and  don't  hit  anything." 

"That's  it,  that's  it,"  replied  the  Trapper.  "But  the  trouble 
here  be  to  keep  in  the  path,  fur,  in  the  fust  place,  there  isn't 
any  path,  and  the  stumps  be  pretty  thick,  and  I  doubt  ef  ye 
can  line  a  trail  from  here  to  the  bank  by  the  lake  without  one  or 
more  sudden  twists  in  it,  and  a  twist  in  the  trail,  goin'  as  fast 
as  we'll  be  goin',  has  got  to  be  taken  jediciously,  or  somethin' 
will  happen.  I  say,  Bill,  what  p'int  will  ye  steer  fur  ? " 

Wild  Bill,  thus  addressed,  proceeded  to  give  his  opinion 
touching  the  proper  direction  of  the  flight  they  were  to  make. 
Indeed,  he  had  been  closely  examining  the  ground  while  the 
Trapper  was  speaking,  and  therefore  gave  his  opinion  promptly 
and  with  confidence. 

"Ye  have  chosen  the  course  with  jedgment,"  said  the  old 
man  approvingly,  after  he  had  studied  the  line  his  companion 
pointed  out  critically  for  a  moment.  "Yis,  Bill,  ye  have  a  nat- 
eral  eye  for  the  business,  and  I  sartinly  have  more  confidence 
in  ye  than  I  had  a  minit  ago,  when  ye  was  talkin'  about  a 
steeper  hill  than  this  ;  fur  this  hill  drops  mighty  sudden  in  the 
pitches,  and  the  crust  be  smooth  as  ice,  and  the  sled'll  go  like  a 
streak  when  it  gits  started.  But  the  course  ye've  p'inted  out  be 


JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS.  67 

a  good  un,  fur  there  be  only  one  bad  turn  in  it,  and  good 
steerin'  orter  put  a  sled  round  that.  I  say,"  continued  the  old 
man,  turning  toward  his  companion,  and  pointing  out  the  crook 
in  the  course  at  the  bottom  of  the  second  dip,  "can  ye  swing 
around  that  big  stump  there  without  upsettin',  when  ye  come 
to  it  ?  " 

"  Swing  around  ?  Of  course  I  can,"  retorted  Wild  Bill,  posi 
tively.  "There's  plenty  room  to  the  left,  and  — 

"  Ay,  ay ;  there  be  plenty  of  room,  as  ye  say,  ef  ye  don't 
take  too  much  of  it,"  interrupted  the  Trapper.  "But — " 

"I  tell  you,"  broke  in  the  other,  "I'll  turn  my  back  to  no 
man  in  steering  a  sled  ;  and  I  can  put  this  sled,  and  you  on  it, 
around  that  stump  a  hundred  times,  and  never  lift  a  runner." 

"Well,  well,"  responded  the  Trapper,  "have  it  yer  own  way. 
I  dare  say  ye  be  good  at  steerin',  and  I  sartinly  know  I'm  good 
at  ridin' ;  and  I  can  ride  as  fast  as  ye  can  steer,  ef  ye  hit  every 
stump  in  the  clearin'.  Now,  childun,"  continued  the  old  man, 
turning  to  the  little  group,  "we  be  goin'  to  try  the  course; 
and  ef  the  crust  holds  up,  and  Wild  Bill  keeps  clear  of  the 
stumps,  and  nothin'  onusual  happens,  ye  shall  have  all  the 
slidin'  ye  want  afore  ye  go  in.  Come,  Bill,  git  yer  sled  p'inted 
right,  and  I'll  be  gittin'  on,  and  we'll  see  ef  ye  can  steer  an  old 
man  round  a  stump  as  handily  as  ye  say  ye  can." 

The  directions  of  the  Trapper  were  promptly  obeyed,  and  in 
an  instant  the  sled  was  in  the  right  position,  and  the  Trapper 
proceeded  to  seat  himself  with  the  carefulness  of  one  who  feels 
he  is  embarking  on  a  somewhat  uncertain  venture,  and  has 


68  JOHN  NORTON'S   CHRISTMAS. 

grave  misgivings  as  to  what  will  be  the  upshot  of  the  undertak 
ing.  The  sled  was  large  and  strongly  built;  and  it  added  not  a 
little  to  his  comfort  to  feel  that  he  could  put  entire  confidence 
in  the  structure  beneath  them. 

"The  sled'll  hold,"  he  said  to  himself,  "ef  the  loadin'  goes 
to  the  jedgment." 

The  Trapper  was  no  sooner  seated  than  Wild  Bill  threw  him 
self  upon  the  sled,  with  one  leg  under  him  and  the  other 
stretched  at  full  length  behind.  This  was  a  method  of  steer 
ing  that  had  come  into  vogue  since  the  Trapper's  boyhood, 
for  in  his  day  the  steersman  sat  astride  the  sled,  with  his  feet 
thrust  forward,  and  steered  by  the  pressure  of  either  heel  upon 
the  snow. 

"Hold  on,  Bill!"  exclaimed  the  Trapper,  whose  eye  this  novel 
method  of  steering  had  not  escaped.  "  Hold  on,  and  hold  up  a 
minit.  Heavens  and  'arth !  ye  don't  mean  to  steer  this  sled  with 
one  toe,  do  ye,  and  that,  too,  the  length  of  a  rifle-barrel  astarn  ? 
Wheel  round,  and  spread  yer  legs  out  as  ye  orter,  and  steer 
this  sled  in  an  honest  fashion,  or  there'll  be  trouble  aboard 
afore  ye  git  to  the  bottom." 

"Sit  round!"  retorted  Bill.  "How  could  I  see  to  steer  if  I 
was  sitting  right  back  of  you  ?  For  you're  nigh  a  foot  taller 
then  I  be,  and  your  shoulders  are  as  broad  as  the  sled." 

"Yer  p'ints  be  well  taken,  fur  sartin,"  replied  the  Trap 
per;  "fur  it  be  no  more  than  reasonable  that  the  man  that 
steers  should  see  where  he  be  goin',  and  I  am  as  anxious  as  ye 
be  that  ye  should.  Yis,  I  sartinly  want  ye  to  see  where  ye  be 


JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS.  69 

goin'  on  this  trip,  anyhow,  fur  the  crew  be  a  fresh  un,  and  the 
channel  be  a  leetle  crooked.  But  be  ye  sartin,  Bill,  that  ye  can 
fetch  round  that  stump  there  as  it  orter  be  did,  with  nothin' 
but  yer  toe  out  behind  ?  It  may  be  the  best  way,  as  ye  say, 
but  it  don't  look  like  honest  steerin'  to  a  man  of  my  years." 

"  I  have  used  both  ways,"  answered  Bill,  "  and  I  give  you 
my  word,  old  man,  that  this  is  the  best  one.  You  can  get  a  big 
swing  with  your  foot  stretched  out  in  this  fashion,  and  the  sled 
feels  the  least  pressure  of  the  toe.  Yes,  it's  all  right.  John 
Norton,  are  you  ready  ?  " 

"  Yis,  yis,  as  ready  as  I  ever  shall  be,"  answered  the  Trap 
per,  in  a  voice  in  which  doubt  and  resignation  were  equally 
mingled.  "It  may  be  as  ye  say,"  he  continued;  "but  the  rud 
der  be  too  fur  behind  to  suit  me,  and  ef  anything  happens  on 
this  cruise,  jest  remember,  Wild  Bill,  that  my  jedgment  — ' 

The  sentence  the  Trapper  was  uttering  was  abruptly  cut 
short  at  this  point ;  for  Bill  had  started  the  sled  with  a  sudden 
push,  and  leaped  to  his  seat  behind  the  Trapper  as  it  glided 
downward  and  away.  In  an  instant  the  sled  was  under  full 
headway,  for  the  dip  was  a  sharp  one,  and  the  crust  smooth  as 
ice.  Scarce  had  it  gone  ten  rods  from  the  point  where  it  started 
before  it  was  in  full  flight,  and  was  gliding  downward  with 
what  would  have  been,  to  any  but  a  man  of  the  steadiest  nerve, 
a  frightful  velocity.  But  the  Trapper  was  of  too  cool  and 
courageous  temperament  to  be  disturbed  even  by  actual  danger. 
Indeed,  the  swiftness  of  their  downward  career,  as  the  sled 
with  a  buzz  and  a  roar  swept  along  over  the  resounding  crust, 


70  JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS. 

stirred  the  old  man's  blood  with  a  tingle  of  excitement ;  while 
the  splendid  manner  with  which  Wild  Bill  was  keeping  it  to 
the  course  settled  upon  filled  him  with  admiration,  and  was 
fast  making  him  a  convert  to  the  new  method  of  steering. 

Downward  they  flashed.  The  Trapper's  cap  had  been  blown 
from  his  head ;  and  as  the  old  man  sat  bolt-upright  on  his  sled, 
his  feet  bravely  planted  on  the  round,  his  face  flushed,  and  his 
white  hair  streaming,  he  looked  the  very  picture  of  hearty  en 
joyment.  Above  his  head  the  face  of  Wild  Bill  looked  actually 
sharpened  by  the  pressure  of  the  air  on  either  cheek  as  it  clove 
through  it  ;  but  his  lips  were  bravely  set,  and  his  eyes  were 
fastened  without  winking  on  the  big  stump  ahead,  toward  which 
they  were  rushing. 

It  was  at  this  point  that  Wild  Bill  vindicated  his  ability  as 
a  steersman,  and  at  the  same  time  barely  escaped  shipwreck. 
At  the  proper  moment  he  swept  his  foot  to  the  left,  and  the 
sled,  in  obedience  to  the  pressure,  swooped  in  that  direction. 
But  in  his  anxiety  to  give  the  stump  a  wide  berth,  Bill  overdid 
the  pressure  that  was  needed  a  trifle  ;  for  in  calculating  the 
curve  required  he  had  failed  to  allow  for  the  sidewise  motion 
of  the  sled,  and,  instead  of  hitting  one  stump,  it  looked  for  an 
instant  as  if  he  would  be  precipitated  among  a  dozen. 

"  Heave  her  starn  up,  Wild  Bill !  up  with  her  starn,  I  say," 
yelled  the  Trapper,  "  or  there  won't  be  a  stump  left  in  the 
clearin'." 

With  a  quickness  and  courage  that  would  have  done  credit 
to  any  steersman, —  for  the  speed  at  which  they  were  going 


JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS.  71 

was  terrific, —  Bill  swept  his  foot  to  the  right,  leaning  his  body 
well  over  at  the  same  instant.  The  Trapper  instinctively  sec 
onded  his  endeavors,  and  with  hands  that  gripped  either  side 
of  the  sled  he  hung  over  that  side  which  was  upon  the  point  of 
going  into  the  air.  For  several  rods  the  sled  glided  along  on  a 
single  runner,  and  then,  righting  itself  with  a  lurch,  jumped  the 
summit  of  the  last  dip,  and  raced  away,  like  a  swallow  in  full 
flight,  toward  the  lake. 

Now,  at  the  edge  of  the  clearing  that  bounded  the  shore  was 
a  bank  of  considerable  size.  Shrubs  and  stunted  bushes  fringed 
the  crest  of  it.  These  had  been  buried  beneath  the  snow,  and 
the  crust  had  formed  smoothly  over  them  ;  and  as  it  was  upheld 
by  no  stronger  support  than  such  as  the  hidden  shrubbery  fur 
nished,  it  was  incapable  of  sustaining  any  considerable  pressure. 

Certainly  no  sled  was  ever  moving  faster  than  was  Wild 
Bill's  when  it  came  to  this  point ;  and  certainly  no  sled  ever 
stopped  quicker,  for  the  treacherous  crust  dropped  suddenly 
under  it,  and  the  sled  was  left  with  nothing  but  the  hind  part 
of  one  of  the  runners  sticking  up  in  sight.  But  though  the  sled 
was  suddenly  checked  in  its  career,  the  Trapper  and  Wild  Bill 
continued  their  flight.  The  former  slid  from  the  sled  without 
meeting  any  obstruction,  and  with  the  same  velocity  with  which 
he  had  been  moving.  Indeed,  so  little  was  his  position  changed, 
that  one  might  almost  fancy  that  no  accident  had  happened, 
and  that  the  old  man  was  gliding  forward  to  the  end  of  the 
course  with  an  adequate  structure  under  him.  But  with  the 
latter  it  was  far  different ;  for,  as  the  sled  stopped,  he  was  pro- 


72  JOHN    NORTON'S    CHRISTMAS. 

jected  sharply  upward  into  the  air,  and,  after  turning  several 
somersaults,  he  actually  landed  in  front  of  the  Trapper,  and 
glided  along  on  the  slippery  surface  ahead  of  him.  And  so  the 
two  men  shot  onward,  one  after  the  other,  while  the  children 
cackled  from  the  hill-top,  and  the  woman  swung  her  bonnet 
over  her  head,  and  laughed  from  her  position  in  the  doorway. 

"  Bill,"  called  the  Trapper,  when  by  dint  of  much  effort  they 
had  managed  to  check  their  motion  somewhat,  "  Bill,  ef  the 
cruise  be  about  over,  I  conceit  we'd  better  anchor  hereabouts. 
But  I  shipped  fur  the  voyage,  and  ye  be  capt'in,  and  as  ye've 
finally  got  the  right  way  to  steer,  I  feel  pretty  safe  techin'  the 
futur'." 

It  was  not  until  they  had  come  to  a  full  stop,  and  looked 
around  them,  that  they  realized  the  distance  they  had  come  ; 
for  they  had  in  truth  slid  nearly  across  the  bay. 

"  I've  boated  a  good  many  times  on  these  waters,  and  under 
sarcumstances  that  called  fur  'arnest  motion ;  but  I  sartinly 
never  went  across  this  bay  as  fast  as  I've  did  it  to-day.  How 
do  ye  feel,  Bill,  how  do  ye  feel  ?  " 

"  A  good  deal  shaken  up,"  was  the  answer,  "  a  good  deal 
shaken  up." 

"I  conceit  as  much,"  answered  the  Trapper,  "I  conceit  as 
much,  fur  ye  left  the  sled  with  mighty  leetle  deliberation  ;  and 
when  I  saw  yer  legs  comin'  through  the  air,  I  sartinly  doubted 
ef  the  ice  would  hold  ye.  But  ye  steered  with  jedgment ;  yis, 
ye  steered  with  jedgment,  Bill;  and  I'd  said  it  ef  we'd  gone  to 
the  bottom." 


JOHN   NORTON'S   CHRISTMAS.  73 

The  sun  was  already  set  when  they  returned  to  the  cabin ; 
for,  selecting  a  safer  course,  they  had  given  the  children  an 
hour's  happy  sliding.  The  woman  had  prepared  some  fresh  tea 
and  a  lunch,  which  they  ate  with  lessened  appetites,  but  with 
humor  that  never  nagged.  When  it  was  ended,  the  Old  Trap 
per  rose  to  depart,  and  with  a  dignity  and  tenderness  peculiarly 
his  own,  thus  spoke  :  — 

"  My  good  woman,"  he  said,  "  the  moon  will  soon  be  up, 
and  the  time  has  come  fur  me  to  be  goin'.  I've  had  a  happy 
day  with  ye  and  the  leetle  uns  ;  and  the  trail  over  the  moun 
tain  will  seem  shorter,  as  the  pups  and  me  go  home,  thinkin' 
on't.  Wild  Bill  will  stay  a  few  days,  and  put  things  a  leetle 
more  to  rights,  and  git  up  a  wood-pile  that  will  keep  ye  from 
choppin'  fur  a  good  while.  It's  his  own  thought,  and  ye  can 
thank  him  accordin'ly."  Then,  having  kissed  each  of  the  chil 
dren,  and  spoken  a  few  words  to  Wild  Bill,  he  took  the  woman's 
hand,  and  said  :  — 

"The  sorrers  of  life  be  many,  but  the  Lord  never  forgits. 
I've  lived  until  my  head  be  whitenin',  and  I've  noted  that 
though  He  moves  slowly,  He  fetches  most  things  round  about 
the  time  we  need  'em ;  and  the  things  that  be  late  in  comin',  I 
conceit  we  shall  git  somewhere  furder  on.  Ye  didn't  kill  the 
big  buck  this  mornin',  but  the  meat  ye  needed  hangs  at  yer 
door,  nevertheless."  And  shaking  the  woman  heartily  by  the 
hand,  he  whistled  to  the  hounds,  and  passed  out  of  the  door. 
The  inmates  of  the  cabin  stood  and  watched  him,  until,  having 
climbed  the  slope  of  the  clearing,  he  disappeared  in  the  shadows 


74  JOHN   NORTON'S   CHRISTMAS. 

of  the  forest ;  and  then  they  closed  the  door.  But  more  than 
once  Wild  Bill  noted  that  as  the  woman  stood  wiping  her  dishes, 
she  wiped  her  eyes  as  well ;  and  more  than  once  he  heard  her 
say  softly  to  herself,  "God  bless  the  dear  old  man  !" 

Ay,  ay,  poor  woman,  we  join  thee  in  thy  prayer.  God  bless 
the  dear  old  man  !  and  not  only  him,  but  all  who  do  the  deeds 
he  did.  God  bless  them  one  and  all  ! 

Over  the  crusted  snow  the  Trapper  held  his  course,  until  he 
came,  with  a  happy  heart,  to  his  cabin.  Soon  a  fire  was  burn 
ing  on  his  own  hearthstone,  and  the  hounds  were  in  their 
accustomed  place.  He  drew  the  table  in  front,  where  the  fire's 
fine  light  fell  on  his  work,  and,  taking  some  green  vines  and 
branches  from  the  basket,  began  to  twine  a  wreath.  One  he 
twined,  and  then  he  began  another ;  and  often,  as  he  twined 
the  fadeless  branches  in,  he  paused,  and  long  and  lovingly 
looked  at  the  two  pictures  hanging  on  the  wall ;  and  when  the 
wreaths  were  twined,  he  hung  them  on  the  frames,  and,  stand 
ing  in  front  of  the  dumb  reminders  of  his  absent  ones,  he  said, 
"  I  miss  them  so!  " 

Ah !  friend,  dear  friend,  when  life's  glad  day  with  you  and 
me  is  passed,  when  the  sweet  Christmas  chimes  are  rung  for 
other  ears  than  ours,  when  other  hands  set  the  green  branches 
up,  and  other  feet  glide  down  the  polished  floor,  may  there  be 
those  still  left  behind  to  twine  us  wreaths,  and  say,  "  We  miss 
them  so  !  " 

.  And  this  is  the  way  John  Norton  the  Trapper  kept  his 
Christmas. 


JOHN   NORTON'S  VAGABOND. 


JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND. 


I. 

A  CABIN.  A  cabin  in  the  woods.  Of  it  I  have  written  be 
fore,  and  of  it  I  write  again.  The  same  great  fireplace  piled 
high  with  logs  fiercely  ablaze.  Again  on  either  side  of  the  fire 
place  are  the  hounds  gazing  meditatively  into  the  fire.  The 
same  big  table,  and  on  it  the  same  great  book,  leather-bound 
and  worn  by  the  hands  of  many  generations.  And  at  the  strong 
table,  bending  over  the  sacred  book,  with  one  huge  finger  mark 
ing  a  sentence,  the  same  whitened  head,  the  same  man,  large 
of  limb  and  large  of  feature  —  John  Norton,  the  Trapper. 

"Yis,  pups,"  said  the  Trapper,  speaking  to  his  dogs  as  one 
speaks  to  companions  in  council,  "yis,  pups,  it  must  go  in,  for 
here  it  be  writ  in  the  Book  —  Rover,  ye  needn't  have  that  de- 
tarmined  look  in  yer  eye  —  for  here  it  be  writ  in  the  Book,  I 
say,  'Do  unto  others  as  ye  tuould  that  others  should  do  unto 
you.7 

"I  know,'  old  dog,  that  ye  have  seed  me  line  the  sights  on 
the  vagabonds,  when  ye  and  me  have  ketched  'em  pilferin'  the 
traps  or  tamperin'  with  the  line,  and  I  have  trusted  yer  nose  as 
often  as  my  own  eyes  in  trackin'  the  knaves  when  they'd  got 
the  start  of  us.  And  I  will  admit  it,  Rover,  that  the  Lord  gave 
ye  a  great  gift  in  yer  nose,  so  that  ye  be  able  to  desarn  the 


78  JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND. 

difference  atween  the  scent  of  an  honest  trapper's  moccasin 
and  that  of  a  vagabond.  But  that  isn't  to  the  p'int,  Rover.  The 
p'int  is,  Christmas  be  comin'  and  ye  and  me  and  Sport,  vender, 
have  sot  it  down  that  we're  to  have  a  dinner,  and  the  question 
in  council  to-night  is,  Who  shall  we  invite  to  our  dinner  ?  Here 
we  have  been  arguin'  the  matter  three  nights  atween  us,  pups, 
and  we  didn't  git  a  foot  ahead,  and  the  reason  that  we  didn't 
git  a  foot  ahead  was,  because  ye  and  me,  Rover,  naterally  felt 
alike,  for  we  have  never  consorted  with  vagabonds,  and  we 
couldn't  bear  the  idee  of  invitin'  'em  to  this  cabin  and  eatin' 
with  'em.  So,  ye  and  me  agreed  to-night  we'd  go  to  the  Book 
and  go  by  the  Book,  hit  or  miss.  And  the  reason  we  should  go 
to  the  Book  and  by  the  Book  is,  because,  ef  it  wasn't  for  the 
Book,  there  wouldn't  be  any  Christmas  nor  any  Christmas  din 
ner  to  invite  anyone  to,  and  so  we  went  to  the  Book,  and  the 
Book  says  —  I  will  read  ye  the  words,  Rover.  And,  Sport,  though 
ye  be  a  younger  dog,  and  naterally  of  less  jedgment,  yit  ye 
have  yer  gifts,  and  I  have  seed  ye  straighten  out  a  trail  that 
Rover  and  me  couldn't  ontangle.  So  do  ye  listen,  both  of  ye, 
like  honest  dogs,  while  I  read  the  words:  — 

"  '  Give  to  him  that  lacketh  and  from  him  that  hath  not  with 
hold  not  thine  hand.' 

"There  it  be,  Rover,—  we  are  to  give  to  the  man  that  lacks, 
vagabond  or  no  vagabond.  Ef  he  lacks  vict'als,  we  are  to  give 
him  vict'als  ;  ef  he  lacks  garments,  we  are  to  give  him  garments  ; 
ef  he  lacks  a  Christmas  dinner,  Rover,  we  are  to  give  him  a 
Christmas  dinner.  But  how  are  we  to  give  him  a  Christmas 


JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND.  79 

dinner  onless  we  give  him  an  invite  to  it  ?  For  ye  know  yerself, 
Rover,  that  no  vagabond  would  ever  come  to  a  cabin  where  ye 
and  me  be  onless  we  axed  him  to. 

"  But  there's  another  sentence  here  somewhere  in  the  Book 
that  bears  on  the  p'int  we  be  considerin'.  '  When  thou  makest  a 
dinner ' —  that  be  exactly  our  case,  Rover, — '  or  a  supper,  call  not 
thy  friends,  nor  thy  brethren,  neither  thy  kinsmen,  nor  thy  rich 
neighbors;  lest  they  also  bid  thee  again,  and  a  recompense  be 
made  thee.  But  when  thou  makest  a  feast,  call  the  poor,  the 
maimed,  the  lame,  the  blind:  and  thou  shalt  be  blessed;  for  they 
cannot  recompense  thee :  for  thou  shalt  be  recompensed  at  the 
resurrection  of  the  just.7 

"  Furdermore,  Rover,  there's  another  passage  that  the  lad, 
when  he  was  on  the  'arth,  used  to  say  each  night  afore  he  went 
to  sleep,  whether  in  the  cabin  or  on  the  boughs.  Sport,  ye  must 
remember  it,  for  ye  was  his  own  dog.  I  am  not  sartin  where 
it  be  writ  in  the  Book,  but  that  doesn't  matter,  for  we  all  know 
the  words, —  it  be  from  the  great  prayer, — '  Forgive  us  our  tres 
passes  as  we  forgive  those  who  trespass  against  us,'  and  the 
great  prayer,  as  I  conceit,  is  the  only  blazin'  a  man  can  trail  by 
ef  he  hopes  to  fetch  through  to  the  Great  Clearin'  in  peace. 

"Now  these  vagabonds,  Rover,  —  I  needn't  name 'em  to  ye, — 
have  trespassed  agin  us  ;  ye  and  me  know  it,  for  we've  ketched 
'em  in  their  devilment,  and,  what  is  more  to  the  p'int,  the  Lord 
knows  it,  too,  for  He's  had  His  eye  on  'em,  and  there's  one  up  in 
the  north  country  that  wouldn't  git  an  invite  to  this  dinner,  Bible 
or  no  Bible.  But,  barrin'  this  knave,  who  is  beyend  the  range  of 


80  JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND. 

our  trails,  there  is  not  a  single  vagabond  that  has  trespassed 
agin  us  that  we  mustn't  forgive.  For  this  be  Christmas  time, 
pups,  and  Christmas  be  a  time  for  forgivin'  and  forgittin'  all  the 
evil  that's  been  done  agin  us." 

And  here  the  old  man  paused  and  looked  at  the  dogs  and  then 
gazed  long  and  earnestly  into  the  fire.  To  his  face  as  he  gazed 
came  the  look  of  satisfaction  and  a  most  placid  peace.  It  was 
evident  that  if  there  had  been  a  struggle  between  his  natural  feel 
ings  and  his  determination  to  celebrate  the  great  Christmas  fes 
tival  in  the  true  Christmas  spirit  the  latter  had  won,  and  that 
the  Christmas  mood  had  at  last  entered  into  and  possessed  his 
soul.  And  after  an  interval  he  rose  and  carefully  closing  the 
great  volume  said  :  — 

"And  now,  pups,  as  we've  settled  it  atween  us,  and  we  all 
stand  agreed  in  the  matter,  I'll  git  the  bark  and  the  coal,  and 
we'll  see  how  the  decision  of  the  council  looks  when  it  be  put  in 
writin'." 

And  in  a  moment  the  Trapper  was  again  seated  at  the  table 
with  a  large  piece  of  birch  bark  in  front  of  him  and  a  hound 
on  either  side. 

"  I  conceit,  pups,  that  the  letterin',"  said  the  old  man  as  he 
proceeded  to  sharpen  the  piece  of  charcoal  he  held  in  his  hands, 
"should  be  of  goodly  size,  for  it  may  help  some  in  readin',  and 
I  sartinly  know  it  will  help  me  in  writin'." 

With  this  honest  confession  of  his  lack  of  practice  in  pen 
manship,  he  proceeded  to  write  :  — 

"Any  man  or  animil  that  be  in  want  of  vict'als  or  garments 


JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND.  81 

is  invited  to  come  on  Christmas  day  —  which  be  next  week  Tliurs- 
day  —  without  furder  axin',  to  John  Norton's  cabin,  on  Long  Lake, 
to  eat  Christmas  dinner.  Vagabonds  included  in  this  invite." 

11 1  can't  say,"  said  the  Trapper,  as  he  backed  off  a  few  paces 
and  looked  at  the  writing  critically,  "  I  can't  say  that  the 
wordin'  be  exactly  as  the  missioners  would  put  it,  and  as  for 
the  spellin',  I  haven't  any  more  confidence  in  it  than  a  rifle  that 
loads  at  the  breech  pin.  The  letterin'  sartinly  stands  out  well, 
for  the  coal  is  a  good  un,  and  I  put  as  much  weight  on  it  as  I 
thought  it  would  bear,  but  there  is  sartinly  a  good  deal  of  dif 
ference  atween  the  ups  and  downs  of  the  markings,  and  the  lines 
slope  off  to'ard  the  northwest  as  ef  they  had  started  out  to  blaze 
a  trail  through  to  St.  Regis.  That  third  line  looks  as  ef  it  would 
finally  come  together  ef  ye'd  gin  it  time  enough  to  git  round 
the  circle,  but  the  bark  had  a  curve  in  it  there,  and  the  coal 
followed  the  grain  of  the  bark,  and  I  am  not  to  blame  for  that. 
Rover,  I  more  than  half  conceit  by  the  look  in  yer  eye  that  ye 
see  the  difference  in  the  size  of  them  letters  yerself.  But  ef  ye 
do  ye  be  a  wise  dog  to  keep  yer  face  steddy,  for  ef  ye  showed 
yer  feelin's,  old  as  ye  be,  I'd  edicate  ye  with  the  help  of  a  moc 
casin."  And  he  looked  at  the  old  dog,  whose  face,  as  if  he 
realized  the  peril  of  his  position,  bore  an  expression  of  super 
natural  gravity,  with  interrogative  earnestness.  "  Never  mind 
the  shape  and  size  of  the  letters  or  the  curve  of  the  lines,"  he 
added;  "the  charcoal  markin'  stands  out  strong,  and  any  hun 
gry  man  with  a  leaky  cabin  for  his  home  can  sartinly  study  out 
the  words,  and  that's  the  chief  p'int,  as  I  understand  it." 


82  JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND. 

With  this  comforting  reflection  the  Trapper  made  his  prepara 
tions  to  retire  for  the  night.  He  placed  the  skins  for  the  dogs  in 
the  accustomed  spot,  lifted  another  huge  log  into  the  monstrous 
fireplace,  swept  the  great  hearthstone,  bolted  the  heavy  door, 
and  then  stretched  himself  upon  his  bed.  But  before  he  slept  he 
gazed  long  and  earnestly  at  the  writing  on  the  bark,  and  mur 
mured  :  "'Vagabonds  included  in  this  invite.'  Yis,  the  Book  be 
right,  Christmas  be  a  day  for  forgivin'  and  forgittin'.  And  even 
a  vagabond,  ef  he  needs  vict'als  or  garments  or  a  right  sperit, 
shall  be  welcome  to  my  cabin."  And  then  he  slept. 

In  the  vast  and  cheerless  woods  that  night  were  some  who 
were  hungry  and  cold  and  wicked.  What  were  Christmas  and 
its  cheer  to  them  ?  What  were  gifts  and  giving,  or  who  would 
spread  for  them  a  full  table  at  which  as  guests  of  honor  they 
might  eat  and  be  merry  ?  And  above  the  woods  was  a  star  lead 
ing  men  toward  a  manger,  and  a  multitude  of  angels  and  an 
Eye  that  seeth  forever  the  hungry  and  the  cold  and  the  wicked. 
On  his  bed  slept  the  Trapper,  with  the  look  of  the  Christ  on  his 
face,  and  as  he  slept  he  murmured  :  — 

"Yis,  the  Book  be  right :  'Let  him  who  hath,  give  to  them  that 
hath  not.' '  And  above  the  woods,  above  the  wicked  and  the 
cold,  above  the  sleeping  Trapper,  and  above  the  blessed  words  on 
the  bark  on  his  wall,  above  the  spot  where  the  Christ  had  thus 
received  a  forest  incarnation,  a  great  multitude  of  the  heavenly 
host  broke  forth  and  sang  :  — 

"  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  and  on  earth  peace,  good  will 
toward  men." 


JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND.  S3 

II. 

IT  was  on  the  day  before  Christmas,  and  the  sun  was  at  its 
meridian.  It  was  a  day  of  brilliance  and  prophecy,  and  the 
prophecy  which  the  Trapper  read  in  the  intense  sky  and  vivid 
brightness  of  the  sun's  light  told  him  of  coming  storm. 

"  Yis,"  muttered  the  old  man,  as  he  stood  just  outside  the 
doorway  of  his  cabin  and  carefully  studied  the  signs  of  forest 
and  sky,  "yis,  this  is  a  weather  breeder  for  sartin.  I  smell  it 
in  the  air.  The  light  is  onnaterally  bright  and  the  woods  on- 
naterally  still.  Snow  will  be  flyin'  afore  another  sunrise,  and 
the  woods  will  roar  like  the  great  lakes  in  a  gale.  I  am  sorry 
that  it's  comin',  for  some  will  be  kept  from  the  dinner.  It's  sar- 
tinly  strange  that  the  orderin'  of  the  Lord  is  as  it  is,  for  a  leetle 
more  hurryin'  and  a  leetle  more  stayin'  on  His  part  of  the  things 
that  happen  on  the  'arth  would  make  mortals  a  good  deal  hap 
pier,  as  I  conceit." 

Aye,  aye,  John  Norton ;  a  little  more  hurrying  and  a  little  more 
staying  of  things  that  happen  on  the  earth  would  make  mortals 
much  happier.  The  great  ship  that  is  to-day  a  wreck  would  be 
sailing  the  sea,  and  the  faces  that  stare  ghastly  white  from  its 
depths  would  be  rosy  with  life's  happy  health.  The  flowers  on 
her  tomb  would  be  twined  in  the  bride's  glossy  hair,  and  the 
tower  that  now  stands  half  builded  would  go  on  to  its  finish 
ing.  The  dry  fountain  would  still  be  in  play  and  the  leafless 
tree  would  stand  green  in  its  beauty  and  bloom.  Who  shall 
read  us  the  riddle  of  the  ordering  in  this  world  ?  Who  shall 


•<H  JOKS  NORTON'S  VAGABOND. 

read  the  riddle,  0  man  of  whitened  head.  O  woman  whose  life 
is  but  a  memory,  who  shall  read  us  the  Trapper's  riddle.  I  say? 

"  There  comes  Wild  Bill/'  exclaimed  the  Trapper  joyfully, 
"  and  one  plate  will  have  its  eater  for  sartin."  And  the  old 
man  laughed  at  the  recollection  of  his  companion's  appetite. 
•'  Lord-a-massy  !  that  box  on  his  sled  is  as  big  as  the  ark.  I 
wonder  ef  he  has  got  a  drove  of  animils  in  it.  " 

Had  the  Trapper  known  the  closeness  of  his  guess  as  to  the 
contents  of  the  huge  box  he  would  have  marveled  at  his  guess 
ing,  for  there  certainly  were  animals  in  the  box  and  of  a  sort 
that  usually  are  noisy  enough  and  sure,  at  the  least  provocation, 
to  proclaim  their  name  and  nature. 

But  every  animal,  whether  wild  or  domesticated,  has  its 
habits,  and  many  of  the  noisiest  of  mouths,  when  the  mood  is 
on  them,  can  be  as  dumb  as  a  sphinx,  and  as  Wild  Bill  came 
shuffling  up  on  his  snowshoes.  with  a  box  of  goodly  size  lashed 
to  his  sled,  not  a  sound  proceeded  therefrom.  It  is  needless  to 
record  that  the  greeting  between  the  two  men  was  most  hearty. 
How  delightful  is  the  meeting  of  men  of  the  woods  !  Manly 
are  they  in  life  and  manly  in  their  greeting. 

"  What  have  ye  in  the  box.  Bill  ? "  queried  the  Trapper  good- 
naturedly.  "  It's  big  enough  to  hold  a  church  bell,  and  a  good 
part  of  the  steeple  beside." 

"It's  a  Christmas  present  for  you.  John  Norton,"  replied  Bill 
gleefully.  "You  don't  think  I  would  come  to  your  cabin  to-day 
and  not  bring  a  present,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Gift  or  no  gift,  yer  welcome  would  be  the  same."  answered 


JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND.  85 

the  Trapper.  "  for  yer  heart  and  yer  shootin'  be  both  right,  and 
ye  will  find  the  door  of  my  cabin  open  at  yer  comin',  whether 
ye  come  full  handed  or  empty,  sober  or  drunk.  Wild  Bill." 

"I  haven't  touched  a  drop  for  twelvemonths."  responded  the 
other.  <;The  pledge  I  gave  you  above  the  Christmas  box  in 
your  cabin  here  last  Christmas  eve  I  have  kept,  and  shall  keep 
to  the  end.  John  Xorton." 

"I  expected  it  of  ye,  yis.  I  sartinly  expected  it  of  ye.  Bill, 
for  ye  came  of  good  stock.  Yer  granther  fit  in  the  Revolution, 
and  a  man's  word  gits  its  value  a  good  deal  from  his  breedin', 
as  I  conceit,"  replied  the  Trapper.  "But  what  have  ye  in  the 
box. —  bird,  beast,  or  fish,  Bill?" 

"The  trail  runs  this  way,"  answered  Bill.  "I  chopped  a 
whole  winter  four  year  ago  for  a  man  who  never  paid  me  a 
cent  for  my  work  at  the  end  of  it.  Last  week  I  concluded  to 
go  and  collect  the  bill  myself,  but  not  a  thing  could  I  get  out 
of  the  knave  but  what's  in  the  box.  So  I  told  him  I'd  take 
them  and  call  the  account  settled,  for  I  had  read  the  writing  on 
the  bark  you  had  nailed  upon  Indian  Carry,  and  I  said:  ''They 
will  help  out  at  the  dinner.''  And  Bill  proceeded  to  start  one 
of  the  boards  with  his  hatchet. 

The  Trapper,  whose  curiosity  was  now  thoroughly  excited, 
applied  his  eye  to  the  opening,  and  as  he  did  so  there  suddenly 
issued  from  the  box  the  most  unearthly  noises,  accompanied  by 
such  scratchings  and  clawings  as  could  only  have  proceeded  from 
animals  of  their  nature  under  such  extraordinary  treatment  as 
they  had  experienced. 


86  JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND. 

"Heavens  and  'arth ! "  exclaimed  the  Trapper,  "ye  have  pigs 
in  that  box,  Bill ! " 

"That's  what  I  put  in  it,"  replied  Bill,  as  he  gave  it  another 
whack,  "  and  that's  what  will  come  out  of  it  if  I  can  start  the 
clinchings  of  these  nails."  And  he  bent  himself  with  energy  to 
his  work. 

"Hold  up!  Hold  up,  Bill!"  cried  the  Trapper.  "This  isn't  a 
bit  of  business  ye  can  do  in  a  hurry  ef  ye  expect  to  git  any 
profit  out  of  the  transaction.  I  can  see  only  one  of  the  pigs, 
but  the  one  I  can  see  is  not  over-burdened  with  fat,  and  it's  agin 
reason  to  expect  that  he  will  be  long  in  gittin'  out  when  he  starts, 
or  wait  for  ye  to  scratch  him  when  he  breaks  cover." 

"Don't  you  be  afraid  of  them  pigs  getting  away  from  me,  old 
man,"  rejoined  Bill,  as  he  pried  away  at  the  nails.  "  I  don't  ex 
pect  that  the  one  that  starts  will  be  as  slow  as  a  funeral  when 
he  makes  his  first  jump,  but  he  won't  be  the  only  pig  I've  caught 
by  the  leg  when  he  was  two  feet  above  the  earth.'' 

"Go  slow,  I  say,  go  slow !"  cried  the  Trapper,  now  thoroughly 
alarmed  at  the  reckless  precipitancy  of  his  companion;  "the 
pigs,  as  I  can  see,  belong  to  a  lively  breed,  and  it  is  sheer  fool 
ishness  to  risk  a  whole  winter's  choppin'— 

Not  another  word  of  warning  did  the  Old  Trapper  utter,  for 
suddenly  the  nails  yielded,  the  board  flew  upward,  and  out  of 
the  box  shot  a  pig.  It  is  in  the  interest  of  accurate  statement 
and  everlasting  proof  of  Wild  Bill's  alertness  to  affirm  and  record 
that  the  flying  pig  had  taken  only  two  jumps  before  his  owner 
was  atop  of  him,  and  both  disappeared  over  the  bank  in  a  whirl- 


JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND.  87 

wind  of  flying  snow.  Nor  had  the  Trapper  been  less  dexterous, 
for  no  sooner  had  the  sandy  colored  streak  shot  through  the  hole 
made  by  the  hatchet  of  the  man  who  had  sledded  him  forty  miles 
that  he  might  present  him  to  the  Trapper  as  a  contribution  to 
the  Christmas  dinner,  than  the  old  man  dropped  himself  on  to 
the  box,  thereby  effectually  barring  the  exit  of  the  other  porcine 
sprinter. 

"Get  your  gun,  get  your  gun,  Old  Trapper!"  yelled  Bill 
from  the  whirlwind  of  snow.  "Get  your  gun,  I  say,  for  this 
infernal  pig  is  getting  the  best  of  me." 

"  I  can't  do  it,  Bill,"  cried  the  Trapper ;  "I  can't  do  it.  I  am 
doin'  picket  duty  on  the  top  of  this  box,  with  a  big  hole  under 
me  and  another  pig  under  the  hole." 

At  the  same  instant  the  pig  and  Wild  Bill  shot  up  the 
bank  into  full  view.  Bill  had  lost  his  grip  on  the  leg,  but  had 
made  good  his  hold  on  an  ear,  and  had  the  Trapper  been  a 
betting  man,  it  is  doubtful  if  he  would  have  placed  money  on 
either.  Had  he  done  so,  the  odds  would  have  been  slightly  in 
favor  of  the  pig. 

"  Hold  on  to  him,  Bill  !  "  cried  the  Trapper,  laughing  at  the 
spectacle  in  front  of  him  till  the  tears  stood  in  his  eyes.  "  Hold 
on  to  him,  I  say.  Remember,  ye  have  three  months  of  chop- 
pin'  in  yer  grip ;  the  pig  under  me  is  gittin'  lively,  and  the  prof 
its  of  the  other  three  months  be  onsartin.  O  Lord  ! "  ejaculated 
the  old  man,  partially  sobered  at  the  prospect,  "  here  comes  the 
pups  and  the  devil  himself  will  now  be  to  pay  !" 

The  anxiety   and  alarming  prediction  of  the  Trapper  were  in 


88  JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND. 

the  next  instant  fully  justified,  for  the  two  dogs,  unaccustomed 
to  the  scent  and  cries  of  the  animals,  but  thoroughly  aroused 
at  the  noise  and  fury  of  the  contest,  came  tearing  down  the 
slope  through  the  snow  at  full  speed.  The  pig  saw  them  com 
ing  and  headed  for  the  southern  angle  of  the  cabin,  with  Bill 
streaming  along  at  his  side.  In  an  instant  he  reappeared  at 
the  northern  corner,  with  Bill  still  fastened  to  his  ear  and  the 
hounds  in  full  cry  just  one  jump  behind  him.  It  is  not  an  accu 
rate  statement  to  say  that  Wild  Bill  was  running  beside  the 
pig,  for  his  stride  was  so  elongated  that  when  one  of  his  feet 
left  the  ground  it  was  impossible  to  predict  when  or  where  it 
would  strike  the  earth,  or  whether  it  would  ever  strike  again. 
The  two  flying  objects,  as  they  came  careering  down  the  slope 
directly  toward  the  Trapper,  who  was  heroically  holding  himself 
above  the  aperture  in  the  box  with  the  porcine  volcano  in  full 
play  under  him,  presented  the  dreadful  appearance  of  Biela's 
comet  when,  rent  by  some  awful  explosion,  the  one  half  was  on 
the  point  of  taking  its  eternal  farewell  of  the  other. 

"Lift  the  muzzle  of  yer  piece,  Wild  Bill!*'  yelled  the  Trap 
per.  "  Lift  the  muzzle,  I  say,  and  allow  three  feet  for  windage, 
or  ye'll  make  me  the  bull's-eye  for  yer  pig  !  " 

The  advice,  or  rather,  let  us  say,  the  expostulation  of  the 
Trapper,  was  the  best  which,  under  the  circumstances,  could  be 
given,  but  no  directions,  however  correct,  might  prevent  the 
dreadful  catastrophe.  The  old  man  stuck  heroically  to  his  post, 
and  the  pig  stuck  with  equal  pertinacity  to  his  course.  He 
struck  the  box  on  which  the  Trapper  sat  with  the  force  of  a 


JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND.  89 

stone  from  a  catapult,  and  dogs,  men,  and  pigs  disappeared  in 
the  snow. 

When  the  Trapper  had  wiped  the  snow  from  his  eyes,  the 
spectacle  that  he  beheld  was,  to  say  the  least,  extraordinary. 
The  head  of  one  dog  was  in  sight  above  the  snow,  and  nigh  the 
head  he  could  make  out  the  hind  legs  and  tail  of  another.  In 
an  instant  Wild  Bill's  cap  came  in  sight,  and  from  under  it  a 
series  of  sounds  was  coming  as  if  he  were  talking  earnestly  to 
himself,  while  far  down  the  trail  leading  to  the  river  he  caught 
the  glimpse  of  two  sandy-colored  objects  going  at  a  speed  to 
which  matter  can  only  attain  when  it  has  become  permanently 
detached  from  this  earth  and  superior  to  the  laws  of  gravita 
tion. 

For  several  minutes  not  a  word  was  said.  The  catastrophe 
had  been  so  overwhelming  and  the  wreck  of  Bill's  hopes  so 
complete  that  it  made  speech  on  his  part  impossible.  The  Trap 
per,  from  a  fine  sense  of  feeling  and  regard  for  his  companion, 
remained  silent,  and  the  dogs,  uncertain  as  to  what  was  ex 
pected  of  them,  kept  their  places  in  the  snow.  At  last  the  old 
man  struggled  to  his  feet  and  silently  started  toward  the  cabin. 
Wild  Bill  followed  in  equal  silence,  and  the  dogs  as  mutely 
brought  up  the  rear.  The  depressed,  not  to  say  woe-begone, 
appearance  of  the  singular  procession  certainly  had  in  it,  in  the 
fullest  measure,  all  the  elements  of  humor.  In  this  suggestive 
manner  the  column  filed  into  the  cabin.  The  dogs  stole  softly 
to  their  accustomed  places,  Wild  Bill  dropped  into  a  chair,  and 
the  Trapper  addressed  himself  mechanically  to  some  domestic 


90  JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND. 

concerns.  At  last  the  silence  became  oppressive.  Wild  Bill 
turned  in  his  chair,  and,  facing  the  Trapper,  said  :  — 

"  It's  too  devilish  bad  !  " 

"Ef  ye  was  in  council,  ginerals  or  privits,  ye'd  carry  every 
vote  with  ye  on  that  statement,  Bill,"  said  the  Trapper  with  de 
liberation. 

"Do  you  think  there  is  any  chance,  old  man  ?"  queried  Bill, 
earnestly. 

"  Not  on  the  'arth,  Bill,"  answered  the  Trapper.  "  Ye  see," 
he  continued,  "the  snow  wasn't  so  deep  on  my  side  the  trail 
and  I  had  my  eye  on  them  pigs  afore  ye  got  yer  head  above 
the  drift,  and  I  noted  the  rate  of  their  rnovin'.  They  was  goin' 
mighty  fast,  Bill,  mighty  fast.  Ye  must  take  into  account  that 
they  had  the  slope  in  their  favor  and  sartin  experiences  behind. 
I've  sighted  on  a  good  many  things  that  was  gifted  in  runnin' 
and  flyin',  and  I  never  kept  a  bullit  in  the  barrel  when  I  wanted 
feather,  fur,  or  meat,  because  of  the  swiftness  of  the  motion,  but 
ef  I  had  ben  standin'  ten  rods  from  that  trail  and  loved  the  meat 
like  a  settler,  I  wouldn't  have  wasted  powder  or  lead  on  them 
pigs,  Bill."  And  the  two  men,  looking  into  each  other's  faces, 
laughed  like  boys. 

"Where  do  you  think  they'll  fetch  up,  John  Norton  ?"  queried 
Bill,  at  last. 

"They  won't  fetch  up,"  replied  the  Trapper,  wiping  his  eyes, 
"leastwise  not  this  year.  Henry  has  told  me  that  it  is  twenty- 
four  thousand  miles  around  the  'arth,  and  it  looked  to  me  as  ef 
them  pigs  had  started  out  to  sarcumnavigate  it,  and  I  conceit 


JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND.  91 

it'll  be  about  a  month  afore  they  will  come  through  this  clearin' 
agin.  I  may  be  a  little  amiss  in  my  calkerlatin',  but  a  day  more 
or  less  won't  make  any  difference  with  you  and  me,  nor  with 
the  pigs,  either,  Bill.  They  may  be  a  trifle  leaner  when  they 
pass  the  cabin  next  time,  but  their  gait  will  be  jest  the  same,  as 
I  conceit."  And  after  a  moment,  he  asked,  sympathetically:  — 

"How  far  did  ye  sled  them  pigs,  Bill  ?" 

"  Forty  mile,"  answered  Bill,  dejectedly, 

"  It's  a  goodly  distance,  considerin'  the  natur'  of  the  ani- 
mils,"  replied  the  Trapper,  "and  ye  must  have  been  tempted  to 
onload  the  sled  more'n  once,  Bill." 

"  I  would  have  unloaded  it,"  responded  the  other,  "I  would 
have  unloaded  the  cussed  things  more  than  once,  but  I  had 
nothing  else  to  bring  you,  and  I  thought  they'd  look  mighty 
fine  standing  up  on  the  table  with  an  apple  in  each  mouth  and 
their  tails  curled  up,  as  I've  seen  them  at  the  barbecues." 

"  So  they  would,  so  they  would,  Bill ;  but  ye  never  could  have 
kept  'em  on  the  table.  No  amount  of  cookin'  would  have  ever 
taken  the  speed  out  of  them  pigs.  Ef  ye  had  nailed  'em  to  the 
table  they'd  have  taken  the  table  and  cabin  with  'em.  It's  bet 
ter  as  it  is,  Bill ;  so  cheer  up  and  we'll  git  at  the  cookin'. " 

Cooking  is  more  than  an  art:  it  is  a  gift.  Genius,  and  gen 
ius  alone,  can  prepare  a  feast  fit  for  the  feaster.  Woe  be  to  the 
wretch  who  sees  nothing  in  preparing  food  for  the  mouth  of 
man  save  manual  labor.  Such  a  knave  should  be  basted  on  his 
own  spit.  An  artist  in  eating  can  alone  appreciate  an  artist  in 


02  JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND. 

cooking.  When  food  is  well  prepared  it  delights  the  eye,  it  in 
toxicates  the  nose,  it  pleases  the  tongue,  it  stimulates  the  appe 
tite,  and  prolongs  the  healthy  craving  which  it  finally  satisfies, 
even  as  the  song  of  the  mother  charms  the  child  which  it 
gradually  composes  for  slumber. 

The  Old  Trapper  was  a  man  of  gifts  and  among  his  gifts  was 
that  of  cooking.  For  sixty  years  he  had  been  his  own  chef,  with 
a  continent  for  his  larder,  and  to  more  than  one  gourmand  of 
the  great  cities  the  tastiness  and  delicacy  of  his  dishes  had  been 
a  revelation  —  more  than  one  epicure  of  the  clubs  had  gone  from 
his  cabin  not  only  with  a  full  but  a  surprised  stomach. 

It  is  easy  to  imagine  the  happiness  that  this  host  of  the  woods 
experienced  in  preparing  the  feast  for  the  morrow.  He  entered 
upon  his  labors,  whose  culmination  was  to  be  the  great  event  of 
the  year,  with  the  alacrity  of  one  who  had  mentally  discussed 
and  decided  every  point  in  anticipation.  There  was  no  cause 
for  haste,  and  hence  there  was  no  confusion.  He  could  not  foretell 
the  number  of  his  guests,  but  this  did  in  no  way  disconcert  him. 
He  had  already  decided  that  no  matter  how  many  might  come 
there  should  be  enough.  In  Wild  Bill  he  had  an  able  and  will 
ing  assistant,  and  all  through  the  afternoon  and  well  into  the 
evening  the  two  men  pushed  on  the  preparation  for  the  great 
dinner. 

The  large  table,  constructed  of  strong  maple  plank,  was  sanded 
and  scoured  until  it  shone  almost  snowy  white.  On  it  was  placed 
a  buck,  roasted  a  la  barbecue,  the  skin  and  head  skillfully  recon 
nected  with  the  body  and  posed,  muzzle  lifted,  antlers  laid  well 


JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND.  93 

back,  head  turned,  ears  alert,  as  he  stood  in  the  bush  when  the 
Trapper's  bullet  cut  him  down.  At  one  end  of  the  table  a  bear's 
cub  was  in  the  act  of  climbing  a  small  tree,  while  at  the  other 
end  a  wild  goose  hung  in  mid-air,  suspended  by  a  fine  wire  from 
the  ceiling,  with  neck  extended,  wings  spread,  legs  streaming 
backward,  as  he  looked  when  he  drove  downward  toward  open 
water  to  his  last  feeding. 

The  great  cabin  was  a  bower  of  beauty  and  fragrance.  The 
pungent  odor  of  gummy  boughs  and  of  bark,  under  which  still 
lurked  the  amber-colored  sweat  of  heated  days  and  sweltering 
nights,  pervaded  it.  On  one  side  of  the  cabin  hung  a  huge  piece  of 
white  cotton  cloth,  on  which  the  Trapper,  with  a  vast  outlay  of 
patience,  had  stitched  small  cones  of  the  pine  into  the  conven 
tional  phrase, 

"A   MERRY   CHRISTMAS   TO   YE   ALL." 

"  It  must  have  taken  you  a  good  many  evenings  to  have  done 
that  job,"  said  Wild  Bill,  pointing  with  the  ladle  he  held  in 
his  hand  toward  the  illuminated  bit  of  sheeting. 

"It  did,  Bill,  it  did,"  replied  the  Trapper,  "and  a  solemn  and 
a  lively  time  I  had  of  it,  for  I  hadn't  but  six  big  needles  in  the 
cabin  and  I  broke  five  on  'em  the  fust  night,  for  the  cones  was 
gummy  and  hard,  and  it  takes  a  good,  stiff  needle  to  go 
through  one  ef  the  man  who  is  punchin'  it  through  hasn't  any 
thimble  and  the  ball  of  his  thumb  is  bleedin'.  Lord-a-massy, 
Bill,  Rover  knew  the  trouble  I  was  havin'  as  well  as  I  did,  for 
arter  I  had  broken  the  second  needle  and  talked  about  it  a 
moment,  the  old  dog  got  oneasy  and  began  to  edge  away,  and 


94  JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND. 

by  the  time  I  had  broken  the  fourth  needle  and  got  through 
washin'  my  thumb  he  had  backed  clean  across  the  cabin  and 
sat  jammed  up  in  the  corner  out  there  flatter  than  a  shingle." 

"And  what  did  he  do  when  the  fifth  needle  broke  ?"  queried 
Bill,  as  he  thrust  his  ladle  into  the  pot. 

"Heavens  and  'arth,  Bill,  why  do  ye  ax  sech  foolish  ques 
tions  ?  Ye  know  it  wasn't  a  minit  arter  that  fifth  needle  broke, 
leavin'  the  bigger  half  stickin'  under  the  nail  of  my  forefinger, 
afore  both  of  the  pups  was  goin'  out  through  the  door  there  as 
ef  the  devil  was  arter  'em  with  a  fryin'  pan,  and  a  chair  a  lee- 
tie  behind  him.  But  a  man  can't  stand  everything,  ef  he  be  a 
Christian  man  and  workin'  away  to  git  a  Christmas  sign  ready ; 
can  he,  Bill  ?  " 

It  is  in  harmony  with  the  facts  of  the  case  for  me  to  record 
that  Wild  Bill  never  answered  the  Old  Trapper's  very  proper  in 
terrogation,  but  sat  down  on  the  floor  and  thrust  his  legs  up  in 
the  air  and  yelled,  and  after  the  spasm  left  him  he  got  up 
slowly,  sat  down  in  a  chair,  and  looked  at  the  Trapper  with  wet 
eyes  and  mouth  wide  open. 

The  Old  Trapper  evidently  relished  the  mirthfulness  of  his 
companion,  for  his  face  was  lighted  with  the  amused  expres 
sion  of  the  humorist  when  he  has  told  to  an  appreciative  com 
rade  an  experience  against  himself.  But  in  an  instant  his  coun 
tenance  dropped,  and,  looking  at  the  huge  kettle  that  stood  half 
buried  in  the  coals  and  warm  ashes  in  front  of  the  glowing  logs 
and  into  which  Bill  had  been  so  determinedly  thrusting  his  ladle 
only  a  moment  before,  he  exclaimed  :  — 


JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND.  95 

"Bill,  I  have  lost  all  confidence  in  yer  cookin'  abilities.  Ye 
said  that  ye  knew  the  natur'  of  corn  meal  and  that  ye  could 
fill  a  puddin'  bag  jediciously,  and  though  it  isn't  ten  minits 
sence  ye  tied  the  string  and  the  meal  isn't  half  swollen  yit,  yer 
whole  bag  there  is  on  the  p'int  of  comin'  out  of  the  pot." 

At  this  alarming  announcement  Wild  Bill  jumped  for  the 
fireplace  and  in  an  instant  he  had  placed  the  spade-shaped  end 
of  his  ladle,  whose  handle  was  full  three  feet  long,  at  the  very 
center  of  the  lid  that  was  already  lifted  two  inches  from  the  rim 
of  the  kettle,  and  was  putting  a  good  deal  of  pressure  upon  it. 
Confident  in  his  ability  to  resist  any  further  upward  tendency, 
and  to  escape  the  threatened  catastrophe,  he  coolly  replied  :  — 

"  It  strikes  me  that  you  are  a  good  deal  excited  over  a  little 
matter,  old  man.  The  meal  has  got  through  swelling  — 

"No,  it  hasn't,  no,  it  hasn't,"  returned  the  Trapper.  "Half 
the  karnels  haven't  felt  the  warmin'  of  the  hot  water  yit,  and  I 
can  see  that  the  old  lid  is  liftin'." 

"  No,  it  isn't  lifting,  either,  John  Norton,"  returned  Wild  Bill 
determinedly;  "and  it  won't  lift  unless  the  shaft  of  this  ladle 
snaps." 

"  The  ladle  be  a  good  un,"  returned  the  Trapper,  now  fully 
assured  that  no  human  power  could  avert  the  coming  catastro 
phe,  and  keenly  enjoying  his  companion's  extremity  and  the 
humor  of  the  situation.  "  The  ladle  be  a  good  un,  for  I  fash 
ioned  it  from  an  old  paddle  of  second  growth  ash,  whose  blade 
I  had  twisted  in  the  rapids,  and  ye  can  put  yer  whole  weight 
on  it." 


96  JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND. 

"Old  man,"  cried  Bill,  now  thoroughly  alarmed,  "the  lid  is 
lifting." 

"Sartinly,  sartinly,"  returned  the  Trapper.  "It's  lifted  fully 
half  an  inch  sence  ye  placed  yer  ladle  to  it,  and  it'll  keep  on 
liftin'.  Rover  knows  what  is  comin'  as  well  as  I  do,  for  the  old 
dog,  as  ye  see,  begins  to  edge  away,  and  Sport  has  started  for 
the  door  already/' 

"  What  shall  I  do,  John  Norton  ?  What  shall  I  do  ?  The 
lid  is  lifting  again." 

"Is  yer  ladle  well  placed,  Bill?  Have  ye  got  it  in  the  center 
of  the  lid  ?  "  returned  the  Trapper. 

"Dead  in  the  center,  old  man,"  responded  Bill,  confidently, 
"  dead  in  the  center." 

"Put  yer  whole  weight  on  it,  then,  and  don't  waste  yer 
strength  in  talkin'.  Ye  know  yer  own  strength,  and  I  know  the 
strength  of  Indian  meal  when  hot  water  gits  at  it,  and  ef  the  ladle 
don't  slip  or  the  kettle-lid  split  it's  about  nip  and  tuck  atween  ye." 

"  Old  man,"  yelled  Bill,  as  he  put  his  whole  weight  on  the 
ladle  handle,  "this  lid  has  lifted  again.  Get  a  stick  and  come 
here  and  help  me." 

"No,  no,  Bill,"  answered  the  Trapper,  "the  puddin'  is  of  yer 
own  mixin'  and  ye  must  attend  to  the  job  yerself.  I  stuck  to 
yer  box  with  a  hole  underneath  me  and  a  pig  under  the  hole 
till  somethin'  happened  and  ye  must  stick  to  yer  puddin'." 

"But  I  can't  hold  it  down,  John  Norton,"  yelled  poor  Bill. 
"The  lid  has  lifted  again  and  the  whole  darned  thing  is  com 
ing  out  of  the  pot." 


JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND.  97 

"I  conceit  as  much,  I  conceit  as  much,"  answered  the  Trap 
per.  "There  go  the  pups  out  of  the  door,  Bill,  and  when  the 
dogs  quit  the  cabin  it's  time  for  the  master  to  f oiler."  And  the 
old  man  started  for  the  door. 

The  catastrophe!  Who  could  describe  it?  Bill's  strength  was 
adequate,  but  no  human  power  could  save  the  pudding.  Even 
as  Bill  put  his  strength  on  to  the  ladle,  the  wooden  cover  of  the 
kettle  split  with  a  sharp  concussion  in  the  middle,  the  kettle  was 
upset,  and  poor  Bill,  covered  with  ashes  and  pursued  by  a  cloud 
of  steam,  shot  out  of  the  door  and  plunged  into  the  snow. 

Oh,  laughter,  sweet  laughter,  laugh  on  and  laugh  ever !  In 
the  smile  of  the  babe  thou  comest  from  heaven.  In  the  girl's 
rosy  dimples,  in  the  boy's  noisy  glee,  in  the  humor  of  strong 
men,  and  the  wit  of  sweet  women,  thou  art  seen  as  a  joy  and  a 
comfort  to  us  humans.  When  fortune  deserts  and  friends  fall 
away,  he  who  keeps  thee  keeps  solace  and  health,  hope  and  heart, 
in  his  bosom.  When  the  head  groweth  white  and  the  eye  getteth 
dim,  and  the  soul  goeth  out  through  the  slow  closing  gates  of 
the  senses,  be  thou  then  in  us  and  of  us,  thou  sweet  angel  of 
heaven,  that  the  smile  of  the  babe  in  its  first  happy  sleep  may 
come  back  to  our  faces  as  we  lie  at  the  gates  in  our  last  and  — 
perhaps — most  peaceful  slumber! 

The  laughter  and  the  labor  of  the  day  were  ended.  The  work 
of  preparation  for  the  dinner  on  the  morrow  had  extended  well 
into  the  evening,  and  at  its  conclusion  the  two  men,  satisfied 
with  the  result  of  the  pleasant  task  and  healthily  weary,  retired 


98  JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND. 

to  their  cots.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  thoughts  of  each 
were  happy  and  their  feelings  peaceful,  and  to  such  slumber 
comes  quickly.  Outside  the  world  was  white  and  still,  with  the 
stillness  that  precedes  the  coming  of  a  winter  storm.  Through 
the  voiceless  darkness  a  few  feathery  prophecies  of  coming  snow 
were  settling  lazily  downward.  The  great  stones  in  the  fireplace 
were  still  white  with  heat,  and  the  cabin  was  filled  with  the 
warm  afterglow  of  burned  logs  and  massive  brands  that  ever  and 
anon  broke  apart  and  flamed  anew. 

Suddenly  the  Trapper  lifted  himself  on  his  couch,  and,  look 
ing  over  toward  his  companion,  said  :  — 

"Bill,  didn't  ye  hear  the  bells  ring  ?" 

Wild  Bill  lifted  himself  to  his  elbow,  and  in  sheer  astonish 
ment  stared  at  the  Trapper,  for  he  well  knew  there  wasn't  a 
bell  within  fifty  miles.  The  old  man  noticed  the  astonishment 
of  his  companion  and,  realizing  the  incredibility  of  the  supposi 
tion,  said  as  if  in  explanation  of  the  strangeness  of  his  question 
ing:- 

"This  be  the  night  on  which  memory  takes  the  home  trail, 
Bill,  and  the  thoughts  of  the  aged  go  backward."  And,  laying 
his  head  again  on  the  pillow,  he  murmured:  "I  sartinly  con 
ceited  I  heerd  the  bells  ringin'."  And  then  he  slept. 

Aye,  aye,  Old  Trapper ;  we  of  whitening  heads  know  the 
truth  of  thy  saying  and  thy  dreaming.  Thou  didst  hear  the  bells 
ring.  For  often  as  we  sleep  on  Christmas  eve  the  ringing  of 
bells  comes  to  us.  Marriage  peal  and  funeral  knell,  chimes  and 
tolling,  clash  of  summons  and  measured  stroke,  dying  noises 


JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND.  99 

from  a  dead  past  swelling  and  sinking,  sinking  and  swelling, 
like  falling  and  failing  surf  on  a  wreck-strewn  beach.  Ah,  me ! 
where  be  the  ships,  the  proud,  white-sailed  ships,  the  rich-laden 
ships,  whose  broken  timbers  and  splintered  spars  lie  now  dank, 
weed-grown,  sand-covered,  on  that  sorrowful  shore,  on  that 
mournfully  resounding  shore  of  our  past  ? 

But  other  bells,  thank  God,  sound  for  us  all,  Old  Trapper,  on 
Christmas  eve, —  not  the  bells  of  the  past,  but  the  bells  of  the 
future.  And  they  ring  loud  and  clear,  and  they  will  ring  for 
ever,  for  they  are  swung  by  the  angels  of  God.  And  they  tell 
of  a  new  life,  a  new  chance,  and  a  new  opportunity  for  us  all. 

Morning  dawned.  The  day  verified  the  Trapper's  prophecy, 
for  it  came  with  storm.  The  mountain  back  of  the  cabin  roared 
as  if  aerial  surf  was  breaking  against  it.  The  air  was  thick 
with  snow  that  streamed,  whirled,  and  eddied  through  it  dry 
and  light  as  feathers  of  down. 

"  Never  mind  the  storm,  Bill,"  said  the  Trapper  cheerily,  as 
he  pushed  the  door  open  in  the  gray  dawn  and  looked  out  into 
the  maze  of  whirling,  rushing  snowflakes.  "A  few  may  be 
hindered,  and  one  or  two  fetch  through  a  leetle  late,  but  there'll 
be  an  'arnest  movement  of  teeth  when  the  hour  for  eatin'  comes 
and  the  plates  be  well  filled." 

Dinner  was  called  prompt  to  the  hour,  and  again  was  the 
old  man's  prediction  realized.  The  table  lacked  not  guests,  for 
nearly  every  chair  was  occupied.  Twenty  men  had  breasted  the 
storm  that  they  might  be  at  that  dinner,  and  some  had  traversed 


100  JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND. 

a  thirty  mile  trail  that  they  might  honor  the  old  man  and  share 
his  generous  cheer.  It  was  a  remarkable  and,  perhaps  we  may 
say,  a  motley  company  that  the  Trapper  looked  upon  as  he  took 
his  place,  knife  and  fork  in  hand,  at  the  head  of  the  table,  with 
a  hound  on  either  side  of  his  great  chair,  to  perform  the  duty 
of  host  and  chief  carver. 

"  Friends,"  said  the  Trapper,  standing  erect  in  his  place  and 
looking  cheerfully  at  the  row  of  bearded  and  expectant  faces 
on  either  hand  in  front  of  him,  "  friends,  I  axed  ye  to  come 
and  eat  this  Christmas  dinner  with  me  because  I  love  the  com 
panionship  of  the  woods  and  hated,  on  this  day  of  human  feastin' 
and  gladness,  to  eat  my  food  alone.  I  also  conceited  that  some 
of  ye  felt  as  I  did,  and  that  the  day  would  be  happier  ef  we 
spent  it  together.  I  knew,  furdermore,  that  some  of  ye  were 
not  born  in  the  woods,  but  were  newcomers,  driven  here  as  a 
canoe  to  a  beach  in  a  gale,  and  that  the  day  might  be  long  and 
lonesome  to  ye  ef  ye  had  to  stay  in  yer  cabins  from  mornin'  till 
night  alone  by  yerselves.  And  I  also  conceited  that  here  and 
there  might  be  a  man  who  had  been  onfortunit  in  his  trappin' 
or  his  venturs  in  the  settlements,  and  might  act'ally  be  in  need 
of  food  and  garments,  or  it  may  be  he  had  acted  wickedly  at 
times,  and  had  lost  confidence  in  his  own  goodness  and  the 
goodness  of  others,  and  I  said  I  will  make  the  tarms  of  the  in- 
vitin'  broad  enough  to  include  each  and  all,  whoever  and  what 
ever  he  may  be. 

"And  now,  friends,"  continued  the  old  man,  "  I  be  glad  to 
see  ye  at  my  table,  and  I  hope  ye  have  brought  a  good  appetite 


JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND.  101 

with  ye,  for  the  vic'tals  be  plenty  and  no  one  need  scrimp  the 
size  of  his  eatin'.  Let  us  all  eat  heartily  and  be  merry,  for  this 
be  Christmas.  Ef  we've  had  bad  luck  in  the  past  we'll  hope  for 
better  luck  in  the  futur'  and  take  heart.  Ef  we've  been  heavy- 
hearted  or  sorrowful  we  will  chirk  up.  Ef  any  have  wronged 
us  we  will  forgive  and  forgit.  For  this  be  Christmas,  friends, 
and  Christmas  be  a  day  for  forgivm'  and  forgittin.'  And  now, 
then,''  continued  the  old  man,  as  he  flourished  his  knife  and 
grasped  the  huge  fork  preparatory  to  plunging  it  into  the  veni 
son  haunch  in  front  of  him,  ''with  good  appetites  and  a  cheer 
ful  mind  let  us  all  fall  to  eatin'." 

III. 

THUS  went  the  feasting.  Hunger  had  brought  its  appetite  to 
the  plentiful  table,  and  the  well  cooked  viands  provoked  its  in 
dulgence.  If  the  past  of  any  of  the  Trapper's  guests  had  been 
sorrowful,  the  unhappiness  of  it  for  the  moment  was  forgotten. 
Stories  crisp  as  snow-crust  and  edged  with  aptness,  happy 
memories  and  reminiscences  of  frolic  and  fun,  sly  hits  and  keen 
retorts,  jokes  and  laughter,  rollicked  around  the  table  and  shook 
it  with  mirthful  explosions.  The  merriment  was  at  its  height 
when  a  loud  summons  sounded  upon  the  door.  It  was  so  im 
perious  as  well  as  so  unexpected  that  every  noise  was  instantly 
hushed,  and  every  face  at  the  table  was  turned  in  surprise  to 
wait  the  entrance. 

"Come  in,"  cried  the  Trapper,  cheerily;  "whoever  ye  be,  ye 
be  welcome  ef  ye  be  a  leetle  late." 


10-2  JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND. 

The  response  of  him  who  so  emphatically  sought  admission 
to  the  feast  was  as  prompt  as  his  summons  had  been  deter 
mined.  For,  without  an  instant's  delay  or  the  least  hesitancy  of 
movement,  the  great  door  was  pushed  suddenly  inward  and  a 
man  stepped  into  the  room. 

A  sturdy  fellow  he  was,  swarth  of  skin  and  full  whiskered. 
His  hair  was  black  and  coarse  and  grown  to  his  shoulders.  His 
eyes  were  black  as  night,  largely  orbed  under  heavy  brows,  not 
lacking  a  certain  wicked  splendor.  His  face  was  strongly  fea 
tured  and  stamped  in  every  line  and  curve  and  prominence  with 
the  impress  of  unmistakable  power.  In  his  right  hand  he  car 
ried  a  rifle,  and  in  his  left  a  bundle,  snugly  packed  and  pro 
tected  from  the  storm  in  wrappings  of  oiled  cloth.  The  strong 
light,  into  the  circle  of  which  he  had  so  suddenly  stepped, 
blinded  him  for  a  moment,  while  to  those  who  sat  staring  at 
him  it  brought  out  with  vivid  distinctiveness  every  feature  of 
his  strong  and,  save  for  a  certain  hardness  of  expression,  hand 
some  face.  It  was  evident  that  the  man,  whoever  he  was  and 
whatever  he  might  be,  was  under  the  pressure  of  some  impulse 
or  conviction  which  had  urged  him  on  to  the  Trapper's  cabin 
and  the  Trapper's  presence.  For,  no  sooner  had  he  closed  the 
door  and  shaken  the  snow,  with  which  he  was  covered,  from 
his  garments,  than,  regardless  of  those  who  sat  staring  in  startled 
interrogation  at  him,  he  strode  to  the  head  of  the  table  where 
the  Old  Trapper  sat,  and,  looking  him  straight  in  the  face, 
said  :  — 

"Do  you  know  who  I  am,  John  Norton?" 


JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND.  103 

"Sartinly,"  answered  the  Trapper,  "ye  be  Shanty  Jim,  and 
ye  have  camped  these  three  year  and  more  at  the  outlet  of  Bog 
Lake." 

"  Do  you  know  that  I  am  a  thief,  and  a  sneak  thief  at  that  ?  " 
continued  the  newcomer,  speaking  with  a  fierce  directness  that 
was  startling. 

"  I've  conceited  ye  was,"  answered  the  Trapper,  calmly. 

"Do  you  know  it,  know  it  to  a  certainty?"  and  the  words 
came  out  of  his  mouth  like  the  thrust  of  a  knife. 

"  Yis,  I  know  that  ye  be  a  thief,  Shanty  Jim,"  replied  the 
Trapper,  "know  it  to  a  sartinty." 

"Do  you  know  that  I  have  stolen  skins  from  you,  old  man, 
skins  and  traps  both  ? "  continued  the  other. 

"  I  laid  in  ambush  for  ye  once  at  the  falls  of  Bog  River,  and 
I  seed  ye  take  an  otter  from  a  trap  that  I  sot,"  replied  the  Trap 
per. 

"Why  didn't  you  shoot  me  when  I  stood  skin  in  hand?" 
queried  the  self-confessed  thief. 

"I  can't  tell  ye,"  answered  the  Trapper,  "fer  my  eye  was 
at  the  sights  and  my  finger  on  the  trigger,  and  the  feelin'  of 
natur'  was  strong  within  me  to  crop  one  of  yer  ears  then  and 
there,  Shanty  Jim,  but  somethin',  mayhap  the  sperit  of  the  Lord, 
staid  my  finger,  and  ye  went  with  yer  thievin'  in  yer  hand  to 
yer  camp  ontetched  and  onhindered." 

"  Do  you  know  what  brought  me  to  this  cabin  and  to  your 
presence  —  the  presence  of  the  man  whose  skins  and  whose  traps 
I  have  stolen  —  and  made  me  confess  to  his  face  and  before 


104  JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND. 

these  men  here  that  I  am  a  thief  and  a  scoundrel ;  do  you  know 
what  brought  me  here,  a  miserable  cuss  that  I  am  and  have 
been  for  years,  John  Norton  ? "  And  the  man's  speech  was  the 
speech  of  one  who  had  been  educated  to  use  words  rightly  and 
was  marked  with  intense,  even  dramatic,  earnestness. 
"I  can't  conceit,  onless  the  sperit  of  the  Lord." 
"The  spirit  of  the  Lord  had  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  inter 
rupted  the  other  fiercely.  "  If  there  is  any  such  influence  at  work 
in  this  world  as  the  preachers  tell  of,  why  has  it  not  prevented 
me  from  being  a  thief  ?  Why  did  it  not  prevent  me  from  do 
ing  what  I  did  and  being  what  I  was  in  my  youth, —  me,  whose 
mother  was  an  angel  and  whose  father  was  a  patriarch  ?  No, 
it  was  nothing  under  God's  heavens,  old  man,  but  your  invita 
tion  scrawled  with  a  coal  on  a  bit  of  birch  bark  inviting  any 
one  in  these  woods  who  needed  victuals  and  clothes  and  a  right 
spirit  to  come  to  your  cabin  on  Christmas  day;  and  had  you 
written  nothing  else  I  would  not  have  cared  a  cuss  for  it  or  for 
you,  but  you  did  write  something  else,  and  it  was  this  :  *  Vaga 
bonds  included  in  this  invite.' 

"When  I  read  that,  old  man,  my  breath  left  me  and  I  stood 
and  stared  at  the  letters  on  that  bark  as  a  devil  might  gaze  at 
a  pardon  signed  with  the  seal  manual  of  the  Almighty,  for  in 
my  hand  was  a  trap  that  bore  the  stamp  'J.  N.'  and  the  skin  of 
an  otter  I  had  taken  from  the  trap.  And  there  I  stood,  a  thief  and 
a  scoundrel,  with  your  property  in  my  hands  and  read  your  in 
vitation  to  all  the  needy  in  the  woods  to  come  to  your  cabin  on 
Christmas  day  and  that  vagabonds  were  included." 


JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND.  105 

"That  meant  you,  by  thunder!"  exclaimed  Wild  Bill. 

"Yes,  it  did  mean  me,"  returned  Shanty  Jim,  "and  I  knew 
it.  Standing  there  in  the  snow  with  the  stolen  skin  and  trap  in 
my  hand,  I  realized  what  I  was  and  what  John  Norton  was  and 
the  difference  between  him  and  myself  and  most  of  the  world. 
I  went  to  the  tree  to  which  the  bark  that  bore  the  blessed  let 
ters  was  nailed ;  I  took  it  down  from  the  tree ;  I  placed  it  next 
my  bosom  and  buttoned  my  coat  above  it  and,  thus  resting 
upon  my  heart,  I  bore  it  to  my  shanty.'' 

"It  was  as  good  as  a  Bible  to  you,"  said  Wild  Bill. 

"  A  Bible  !  "  rejoined  the  man  with  emphasis.  "  Better  than 
all  Bibles.  Better  than  churches  and  preachers,  better  than 
formal  texts  and  utterances,  for  that  bit  of  bark  told  me  of  a 
man  here  in  the  woods  good  enough  and  big  enough  to  forgive 
and  forget.  All  that  night  I  sat  and  gazed  at  that  piece  of  bark 
and  the  writing  on  it,  and  as  I  gazed  my  heart  melted  within 
me.  For  there  it  was  ever  before  my  eyes  —  '  Vagabonds  in 
cluded  in  this  invite.'  'Vagabonds  included  in  this  invite.'  And 
finally  the  words  passed  into  the  air,  and  wherever  I  looked  I 
saw,  'Vagabonds  included  in  this  invite." 

"  Yis,  them  be  the  very  words  I  writ,"  said  the  Trapper, 
gravely. 

"  And  I  saw  more  than  the  words  written  on  the  bark,  John 
Norton,"  resumed  the  man.  "  For  looking  at  it  I  saw  all  my 
past  life  and  the  evil  of  it  and  what  a  scoundrel  I  had  become  ; 
my  eyes  saw  with  a  new  sight,  and  I  said,  when  the  sun  comes 
I  will  rise  and  go  to  the  man  who  wrote  those  words  and  tell 


106  JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND. 

him  what  they  did  for  me.  And  here  I  am,  a  vagabond  who 
has  accepted  your  invitation  to  spend  Christmas  with  you,  and 
here  in  this  pack  are  the  skins  and  the  traps  I  have  stolen 
from  you,  and  I  ask  your  forgiveness  and  that  you  will  take  my 
hand  in  proof  of  it,  that  I  may  come  to  your  table  feeling  that 
I  am  a  man,  and  a  vagabond  no  longer." 

"  Heart  and  hand  be  yours  now  and  forever,  Shanty  Jim," 
cried  the  Trapper,  joyfully  :  and,  rising  from  his  chair,  he  met 
the  outstretched  hand  of  the  repentant  vagabond  with  his  own 
hearty  grasp.  "And  may  the  Lord  be  with  ye  ever  more." 

"Amen  !"  It  was  Wild  Bill,  the  once  drunkard,  who  said  the 
sweet  word  of  prayer  and  assent,  and  he  said  it  softly.  And 
that  murmur  of  amen  and  amen  went  round  the  great  table 
like  the  murmur  of  prayer  and  of  praise.  And  then  it  passed 
out  and  rose  up  from  the  cabin,  and  the  air  in  its  joy  passed  it 
on,  and  the  stars  took  it  up  and  thrilled  it  around  their  vast 
courses  of  glorified  light,  and  through  the  high  heavens  it  sang 
itself  onward  from  order  to  order  of  angels  until  it  reached  Him 
whom  no  man  hath  seen  or  may  ever  see,  in  all  and  over  all, 
God  !  blessed  forever  ! 

Has  Nature  knowledge  ?  Is  she  conscious  of  the  evil  and  the 
good  among  men,  and  has  she  a  heart  that  saddens  at  their  sor 
row  and  rejoices  ir>  their  joy  ?  Perhaps.  For,  suddenly,  even  as 
the  two  men  joined  their  hands,  the  fury  of  the  storm  checked 
itself,  and  a  stillness  —  the  stillness  of  a  great  calm  —  fell  on 
the  woods,  and  through  the  sudden,  the  unexpected,  the  blessed 
stillness,  to  the  ears  of  one  of  the  two  men  —  yea,  to  him  who 


JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND.  107 

had  forgiven  —  there  came  the  melody  of  bells  swinging  slowly 
and  softly  to  and  fro. 

Oh,  bells,  invisible  bells !  Bells  of  the  soul,  bells  high  in 
heaven,  swing  softly,  swing  low,  swing  sweet,  and  swing  ever 
for  us,  one  and  all,  when  we  at  our  tables  sit  feasting.  Swing 
for  us  living,  swing  for  us  dying,  and  may  the  cause  of  your 
swinging  be  our  forgiving  and  forgetting. 

'•John  Norton,"  said  the  man,  "you  have  called  me  Shanty 
Jim,  and  that  is  well,  for  in  the  woods  here  that  is  my  name, 
but  in  the  city  where  I  lived  and  whence  I  fled,  fled  because  of 
my  misdeeds,  years  ago,  I  have  another  name,  a  name  of  power 
and  wealth  and  honor  for  more  than  two  centuries.  There  I 
have  a  home,  and  in  that  home  to-night  sits  my  aged  father 
and  white-haired  mother.  I  am  going  back  to  them  clothed  and 
in  my  right  mind.  Think  of  it,  Old  Trapper,  going  back  to  my 
home,  my  boyhood's  home,  to  my  father  and  my  mother.  All 
day  as  I  tramped  on  the  trail  toward  your  cabin,  my  mind  has 
been  filled  with  memories  of  the  past,  and  the  words  of  a  sweet 
old  song  I  used  to  sing  when  too  young  to  feel  the  tenderness 
of  it,  have  been  ringing  in  my  ears." 

"Sing  us  the  song,  sing  us  the  song  !"  cried  Wild  Bill,  and 
every  man  at  the  table  cried  with  him,  "Sing  us  the  song  !" 

"Aye,  aye,"  assented  the  Trapper,  "sing  us  the  song,  Shanty 
Jim  ;  we  be  men  of  the  woods  at  this  table,  and  some  of  us 
have  had  losses  and  sorrers,  and  all  of  us  have  memories  of 
happy  days  that  be  gone.  Stand  here  by  my  side  and  sing  us 
the  song  that  has  been  ringin'  in  yer  ears  all  day.  This  is  a 


108  JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND. 

table  of  feastin',  and  feastin'  means  more  than  eatin'.  Sing  us 
the  song  that  tells  ye  of  the  past,  of  yer  boyhood's  days  and 
father  and  mother/' 

Oh,  the  secrets  of  the  woods  !  How  many  have  fled  to  them 
for  concealment  and  refuge  !  In  them  piety  has  built  its  retreat, 
learning  has  sought  retirement,  broken  pride  a  mask,  and  mis 
fortune  a  haven.  And  in  response  to  the  Trapper's  invitation 
there  had  come  to  his  cabin  and  were  now  grouped  about  his 
table  more  of  ability,  more  of  knowledge,  more  of  struggle  and 
failure,  and  more  of  reminiscence  than  might  be  found,  per 
haps,  in  the  same  number  of  guests  at  any  other  table  on  that 
Christmas  day  in  the  world. 

Never  did  singer  sing  sweeter  or  more  touching  song,  or  to 
more  receptive  company. 

"  Backward,  turn  backward,  oh,  Time,  in  your  flight, 
Make  me  a  child  again  just  for  to-night. 
Mother,  corne  back  from  the  echoless  shore, 
Take  me  again  to  your  heart,  as  of  yore  ; 
Kiss  from  rny  forehead  the  furrows  of  care, 
Smooth  the  few  silver  threads  out  of  my  hair, 
Over  my  slumbers  your  loving  watch  keep ;  — 
Rock  me  to  sleep,  mother,  rock  me  to  sleep. 

CHORUS  : — "  Clasped  to  your  heart  in  a  loving  embrace, 
With  your  light  lashes  just  sweeping  my  face, 
Never  hereafter  to  wake  or  to  weep  ;  — 
Rock  me  to  sleep,  mother,  rock  me  to  sleep. 


JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND.  109 

"  Over  my  heart,  in  the  days  that  are  flown, 
No  love  like  mother-love  ever  has  shone  ; 
No  other  worship  abides  and  endures, 
Faithful,  unselfish,  and  patient  like  yours  ; 
None  like  a  mother  can  charm  away  pain 
From  the  sick  soul  and  the  world-weary  brain. 
Slumber's  soft  calms  o'er  my  heavy  lids  creep  ;  — 
Rock  me  to  sleep,  mother,  rock  me  to  sleep. 

CHORUS. — 

"  Come,  let  your  brown  hair,  just  lighted  with  gold, 
Fall  on  your  shoulders  again,  as  of  old ; 
Let  it  drop  over  my  forehead  to-night, 
Shading  my  faint  eyes  away  from  the  light ; 
For  with  its  sunny-edged  shadows  once  more, 
Haply,  will  throng  the  sweet  visions  of  yore  ; 
Lovingly,  softly,  its  bright  billows  sweep  ;  — 
Rock  me  to  sleep,  mother,  rock  me  to  sleep/' 

CHORUS. — 

Never  was  the  sweet  and  touching  song  sung  under  more 
suggestive  circumstances,  and  never  was  it  received  into  more 
receptive  hearts.  The  voice  of  the  repentant  vagabond  was  of 
the  finest  quality,  a  pure,  resonant  tenor,  and,  through  the 
splendid  avenue  of  expression  which  the  words  and  music  of 
the  song  made  for  his  emotions,  he  poured  his  soul  forth  with 
out  restraint.  The  effect  of  his  effort  was  what  would  be  ex 
pected  when  the  character  of  the  audience  and  the  occasion  is 
considered.  Many  an  eye  was  wet  with  tears,  and  the  voices 
that  took  up  the  refrain  here  and  there  trembled  with  emotion. 


110  JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND. 

The  Old  Trapper,  himself,  was    not  unmoved,  for,  as   the   song 
closed,  after  a  few  moments  of  silence,  he  said  :  — 

"  Ye  sang  the  song  well,  Shanty  Jim,  and  many  be  the  mem 
ories  it  has  stirred  in  the  breasts  of  us  all.  May  yer  home-comin' 
be  as  happy  as  was  the  boy's  we  read  of  in  the  Scriptur', 
although  I  never  could  conceit  why  the  mother  was  not 
there  to  go  forth  to  meet  him,  and  fall  on  his  neck  with  the 
father,  and  ef  I'd  had  the  writin'  of  it  I'd  had  the  mother  git 
to  him  a  leetle  fust,  and  hers  the  fust  arms  that  was  thrown 
round  his  neck,  for  that  would  be  more  nateral,  as  I  conceit. 
And  I  sartinly  trust,  as  do  all  of  us  here,  that  ye  will  find 
mother  and  father  both  waitin'  and  watchin'  for  ye  when  the 
curve  of  the  trail  brings  ye  in  the  sight  of  the  cabin.  And  ye 
sartinly  will  take  with  ye  the  good  wishes  of  us  all.  Come, 
take  the  chair  here  by  my  side,  and  we  will  all  talk  as  we  eat ; 
aye,  and  sing,  too,  for  this  be  Christmas,  and  Christmas  be  the 
time  for  eatin'  and  singin',  but,  above  all  else,  for  forgivin'  and 
forgittin'."  At  the  word  the  happy  f casters  went  on  with  the 
feasting. 

Long  and  merry  was  the  meal.  As  the  hours  passed  the  eat 
ing  ceased,  and  the  feast  of  reason  and  the  flow  of  soul  began. 
Memories  of  other  days  were  recalled,  confessions  made,  sorrow 
for  misdoings  felt  and  spoken,  and,  gradually  growing,  as  grows 
the  light  of  dawn,  a  fine  atmosphere  of  hope,  charity,  and  cour 
age  spread  from  heart  to  heart,  until  at  last  it  filled  with  its 
genial  and  illuminating  presence  every  bosom.  In  such  a  mood 


JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND.  Ill 

on  the  part  of  the  host  and  guests  alike  the  feast  came  to  its 
close.  His  Christmas  dinner  had  been  all  that  the  Old  Trapper 
had  hoped,  and  his  heart  was  filled  with  happiness.  He  rose 
from  his  chair,  and,  standing  erect  in  his  place,  said  :  — 

"  Ye  tell  me  that  the  time  has  come  for  ye  to  go,  and  I  dare 
say  ye  be  right,  but  I  be  sorry  we  must  part,  for  in  partin'  we 
be  never  sure  of  a  meetin',  and,  therefore,  as  I  conceit,  all  the 
partin's  on  the  'arth  be  more  or  less  sad,  but  all  parted  trails,  it 
may  be,  will  come  together  in  the  eend.  But  afore  ye  go  I  want 
to  thank  ye  for  comin',  and  I  hope  ye  will  all  come  agin,  and 
whenever  yer  needs  or  yer  feelin's  incline  ye  this  way.  One 
thing  I  want  to  say  to  ye  in  goin',  and  I  want  ye  to  take  it 
away  with  ye,  for  it  may  help  some  of  ye  to  aid  some  onfortunit 
man  and  to  feel  as  happy  as  I  feel  to-night.  It  is  this"  —  and 
here  the  old  man  paused  a  moment  and  looked  with  the  face  of 
an  angel  at  his  guests  as  they  stood  gazing  at  him ;  then  he 
impressively  said  :  — 

"  I've  lived  nigh  on  to  eighty  year,  and  my  head  be  whit- 
enin'  with  the  comin'  and  goin'  of  the  years  I  have  lived,  and 
the  Book  has  long  been  in  my  cabin.  I  have  kept  many  a 
Christmas  alone  and  in  company,  both,  but  never  afore  have  I 
knowed  the  raal  meanin'  of  the  day  nor  read  the  lesson  of  it 
aright.  And  this  be  the  lesson  that  I  have  larned  and  the  one  I 
want  ye  all  to  take  away  with  ye  as  ye  go  —  that  Christmas  is 
a  day  of  feastin'  and  givin'  and  laughin',  but,  above  everythin' 
else,  it  is  the  day  for  forgivin'  and  forgittin'.  Some  of  ye  be 
young  and  may  yer  days  be  long  on  the  'arth,  and  some  of  yer 


112  JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND. 

heads  be  as  white  as  mine  and  yer  years  be  not  many,  but  be 
that  as  it  may,  whether  our  Christmas  days  be  many  or  few, 
when  the  great  day  comes  round  let  us  remember  in  good  or  ill 
fortun',  alone  or  with  many,  that  Christmas,  above  all  else,  is 
the  day  for  forgivin'  and  forgittin'." 


The  guests  were  gone  and  the  Trapper  seated  himself  in 
front  of  the  fireplace,  and  called  the  two  dogs  to  his  side.  It 
was  a  signal  that  they  had  heard  many  times  and  they  re 
sponded  with  happy  hearts.  Each  rested  his  muzzle  on  the 
Trapper's  knee,  and  fixed  his  large  hazel,  love-lighted  eyes  wist 
fully  on  his  master's  face.  The  old  man  placed  a  large  and 
age-wrinkled  hand  on  either  head,  and  murmured  :  "Whether 
ye  be  in  sorrer  or  joy,  friends  come  and  go,  but,  ontil  death 
enters  kennel  or  cabin,  the  hunter  and  his  hounds  bide  together. 
The  lad  camps  beyend  sight  and  beyend  hearin'.  Henry  be  on 
the  other  side  of  the  world,  to-night,  and  guests  be  gone. 
Rover,  yer  muzzle  be  as  gray  as  my  head,  and  few  be  livin'  of 
the  many  we  have  met  on  the  trail."  And  the  Trapper  lifted 
his  eyes  and  looked  around  the  large  and  empty  room,  and 
then  added  :  — 

"  It  took  me  a  good  many  years,  yis,  it  sartinly  took  me  a 
good  many  years,  but,  if  I've  larned  the  lesson  of  Christmas  a 
leetle  late,  I've  larned  it  at  last.  But  the  cabin  does  look 
a  leetle  empty  now  that  the  guests  be  gone.  No,  the  lad  can 
never  come  back,  and  Henry  is  on  the  other  side  of  the  world, 


JOHN  NORTON'S  VAGABOND.  113 

and  there  is   no   good   in  longin'.      But  I   do  wish   I  could  jest 
tech  the  boy's  hand." 

Ah,  friends,  dear  friends,  as  years  go  on  and  heads  get  gray 
—  how  fast  the  guests  do  go  !  Touch  hands,  touch  hands  with 
those  that  stay.  Strong  hands  to  weak,  old  hands  to  young, 
around  the  Christmas  board,  touch  hands.  The  false  forget, 
the  foe  forgive,  for  every  guest  will  go  and  every  fire  burn  low 
and  cabin  empty  stand.  Forget,  forgive,  for  who  may  say  that 
Christmas  day  may  ever  come  to  host  or  guest  again.  Touch 
hands. 


W.  H.  H.— ADIRONDACK— MURRAY'S 

COMPLETE 
WORKS 


CAREFULLY    REVISED   AND    ENLARGED    BY   THE   AUTHOR 
PUBLISHED  FOR  THE  FIRST  TIME  IN 


UNIFORM  EDITION 


ADIRONDACK   TALES 


In  all  matters  relating  to  his  Writings 

ADDRESS 
MRS.  W.  H.  H.  MURRAY 

GU1LFORD,  CONN. 
CARE  THE  MURRAY  HOMESTEAD 

Copyrighted  by  the  Author.     All  rights  reserved. 


